The Alliance
by Discovercat
Summary: AU HBP The wizarding world is in chaos as the Ministry of Magic spirals out of control and Voldemort increases his attacks. The Trio go on the horocrux hunt while Draco convinces a group of his Housemates to oppose the Dark Lord.
1. Chapter 1

A/N I started writing this story after HBP and thus some of the characters do not reflect JKR's later descriptions. Part of the reason it took me so long to publish this is because I wondered whether to go back and change them. I decided not to. Besides that, enjoy an epic story from the point of view of some female character's that I don't often see (except Hermione).

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling, not me.

The forest at the edge of Hogsmeade was dark, foreboding, and exactly what she needed. Hermione Granger sat at the base of a tree with her legs crossed, wand in hand, and a book in her lap. Bushes on either side obscured her from view although she had disillusioned herself for extra protection. Her fingers tapped silently against her thigh as she forced herself to not check the time, again. The boys were only a few minutes late so there was no need to panic… yet. At every bird chirp, bug buzz, or rustle, she gripped her wand firmer; she had laid warning spells on the ground around her, but she was dealing with wizards more experienced and powerful than she.

Crack!

Hermione twitched and held her wand at ready, slowly standing so that she could see over the bushes, trusting her Disillusion spell to keep her hidden. The bushes next to her rustled and shock of red hair appeared above it. She lowered her wand in relief as Ron came through, his wand moving in front of him, his eyes scanning his surroundings. She waited until he had almost passed her.

"Ron!" She hissed.

He jumped and twirled to her, his wand almost hitting her in the face. His eyes widened as they registered her in a place that had just seconds ago been empty. "Hermione?" He made no other move.

"You're late." She tapped her watch. His eyes followed the motion. "What was the name of the thing that we got in trouble for helping Hagrid out with in first year?"

"Harry got detention in the Forbidden Forest helping with Norbert." His wand remained trained on her. "What did you make in second year to help us with the problem in the pipes and what was your issue with it?"

"Polyjuice potion is what I made and my issue with it was grabbing the wrong DNA to put in it."

Ron nodded then pulled her into a hug, the force nearly crushing her. "Thank Merlin! Harry's not here yet?"

"No, but he was suppose to arrive after us anyway. Hold on a sec." She disillusioned them both and they moved back behind the bushes. "I already scouted out the area and people-"

"You what? I thought we agreed to meet here before doing anything else!" Ron leaned on the tree next to her.

"Well, I realized that I had more time on my hands than I'd thought since I spread out the arrival times, so I figured I'd make sure we weren't running into any sort of trap."

Ron was shaking his head. "And you have the nerve to lecture me about caution! You might be brilliant but-"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but shut it at the look he gave her.

"But you are dealing with wizards who have time and experience to lean on. I doubt any of them could pull off the Doppelganger spell but they don't need complicated magic to torture and hurt."

She nodded impatiently. "So it definitely worked then? No hitches?"

"It went bloody perfect as I knew it would." He began scanning the surrounding area. "How long before Harry arrives? Has it been five minutes yet?"

"No, but you were late so he should be here any second." She sat down and motioned for Ron to join her. "I have spells set around here that will show if anyone else arrives. Remus said that this stretch of forest should be empty of anything that we couldn't incapacitate so we should be fine."

Ron hesitated a moment, then took the offered seat. "'Should'? I guess those are the best odds we can get. But pity Remus didn't say anything more useful like 'I guess your six years of experience fighting Volde… he-who-must… thingy more than qualify you for admittance into the Order'. Dumbledore might have said to keep it a secret but he never said we couldn't use resources."

"Let's not focus on that right now." She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice. Keeping them out of the Order was, in her mind, just another example of backwards Wizarding world thinking, the same type of logic which allowed adults to promote a teenage boy as their savior. "They will see their mistake. We just can't compound their mistake by doing nothing." She looked at her watch again. "He is at the Dursley's right? The Order didn't move him elsewhere? It shouldn't affect the portkey unless they have better wards or-"

Crack!

Both of their heads turned to the sound. Ron shot to his feet while Hermione rose to hers more slowly. They couldn't see anything, but the bushes and branches a few feet in front of them moved like there was someone there. Their wands held at attention, Ron motioned for Hermione to move round the tree and she carefully placed her feet as she moved into position. She examined the surrounding forest again, cursing herself for picking such a vulnerable spot.

What had she been thinking? There were other places where they could have gone that wouldn't have added wild animals to the list of people out to kill them. Sure this was the last place anyone would think to look for them, but-

The top of the grass in front of her was disappearing and reappearing and the branches behind that section were broken and bent. She struggled over whether to cast a stunner since it would give away her position and because this could probably hopefully be Harry.

"Petrifuclus Totalis," Ron said, taking the decision out of her hands. There was a thump and suddenly shins and feet came into view clad in dingy jeans and two worn sneakers.

After waiting a moment, Ron motioned for Hermione to cover him as he went over to the fallen body and drew the cloak off of a petrified Harry Potter. Hermione sighed as she walked over. Her redhead friend handed her the Invisibility cloak and nudged Harry. "You reckon it's him?"

"No, it's our other friend with an Invisibility cloak. Release him." Hermione kept scanning the forest. This was one thing less to worry about, but it didn't mean that they could release their guard.

Harry held his hands up when Ron released him. "Well, I guess I shouldn't have worried so much about you guys taking this seriously. How did you know I was there?"

"You might be invisible, but the effects of your presence aren't." Hermione pointed at the way he'd come. "Branches and bushes don't bend and snap themselves. Not these species anyway, although Neville told me that supposedly a little de-"

"No time for lecture right now." Ron rolled his eyes.

The Boy-who-lived chuckled. "You are definitely Ron and Hermione. I don't suppose my cloak is enough to prove my identity?"

"Humor us." Hermione's wand was no longer pointed at Harry; Ron's was. He was giving Harry a sheepish grin but his wand remained trained on him. "How did we help our furry friend back in third year?"

"The same way we're about to get some extra training here. And Buckbeak helped too."

Ron shrugged. "Good enough." He grabbed Harry's hand and hauled him up. "You were late."

Hermione sniffed. "And you weren't?"

"That's different."

"How?" Harry brushed the leaves and dirt off of himself. "Because late is late."

"That doesn't matter." Ron crossed his arms. "Besides, Hermione thinks everything not early is late."

"Right Ronald, because being on time for things is a crime."

They all stared at each other, then Hermione was hugging both of them and they were laughing together. And although their laughter was subdued and quiet, it was no less genuine. After a few minutes they pulled away. Harry balled up his cloak under his arm and Hermione put the book she had been reading back into her bag. Ron scanned the area as they did so.

"You have the maps?" She asked. Now that both her boys were here she could move onto their next priority.

Her brunette friend pulled out the worn parchment given to him by the Weasley twins. "Of course, I'm grieving, not a half-wit."

"What?" His response hadn't been angry, but she didn't know why her simple question meant more to reassure herself had engendered it.

Ron chuckled cautiously, eyes on Harry. "The Prophet's been having a go at him again. 'Dumbledore's Chosen' was one of their favorite appellations for him."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know why as I preferred 'The-Boy-Who-Cried' complete with exclusives on me about how I'm holding up using excerpts from Skeeter's interview with me."

"And that cow?" Hermione didn't like to speak ill of people but Rita Skeeter had more than earned that title. "She hasn't been writing has she?"

"Nope." Harry grinned. "There are even disclaimers mentioning that any quotes from her used are from old article. Course it's so small that the normal person would ignore it, but it is there."

"And you're fine with it?"

Once more, Harry smiled. It was a sad sight to behold but it still was a smile. "I'm use to media treatment by now, and I shouldn't have expected them to let me have anything sacred."

She hugged him again. "You shouldn't have to worry about them at all." Tears pricked at her eyes as she though about the injustice of it all. Dumbledore's death, Harry's, no, _their_ situation with Voldemort, the fact it was necessary for them to be here, in the woods outside Hogsmeade during summer hiding from the Ministry, the Order and the Death Eaters when they should be doing summer homework and enjoying their vacations and trusting in adults to take care of the problem.

Ron put his arms around both of them and Hermione pulled herself out of her morose thoughts. Thoughts that were not helpful and detracted from their goals. Harry cleared his throat and they broke apart again, Hermione wiping her eyes. No tears had escaped but she could feel moisture.

"Okay, now that we've gotten our emotions under control," Harry began. He and Ron both looked at her. She scowled. "Ron, you have your map?"

His map was already rolled up in his hand. He unfurled it, a poster-size map of the town of Hogsemeade, and they all stood in front of it with Hermione grabbing one end and Harry in the middle. "Let's get started. We are here, I think." He pointed to a section of trees a few millimeters away from a row of houses at the edge of the town.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." Harry compared the Marauder's Map to the Hogsmeade one. "There's a tunnel into the castle about 2 miles from here. Or we could go into town and take the one in Honeydukes."

"It's too risky to go into town." Ron traced his finger along the path they would have to take to go there. "Your cloak can't cover all of us and everyone's so paranoid that anything out of the ordinary will immediately be noticed."

"And, Aurors are patrolling it, regularly. Especially in front of the shops." Hermione moved her wand along the route the Aurors she'd seen had taken. "And they are specifically looking for disillusioned people."

Harry raised his eyebrow at her. "How do you know?"

Ron snorted. "Ms. 'Be careful and don't take risks' scouted out the town before we got here."

"What?"

"Relax, Harry. I was prepared and nothing happened." His glare did not die down at her words. "And someone had to do it. I'm less noticeable than both of you so it made sense that it had to be me."

He still looked like he wanted to strangle her. "Hermione, add a talk about responsibility and partnership to the list of tasks to be done at Hogwarts that you have undoubtedly made. Make it a priority."

She glowered at him. "Done."

"Let's go then. It's a straight shot from here and if we linger much longer we increase the risk of getting caught." Ron rolled up the map and began walking.

Harry fell into step behind him and Hermione followed. It was a trial, the first of many to come she was sure. They were both taller than her so their strides were longer, and Ron, with the largest stride, was leading. Ten minutes in, it was just walking through bushes and over fallen branches and the occasional tree. Then Ron abruptly stopped. Harry crashed into his back and Hermione examined the forest around them, her wand aiming for every sound.

"What?" She whispered.

"Did you hear something?" Harry had recovered and he too was scanning for a threat.

The youngest Weasley male groaned. "I'm such an idiot."

"What?" She focused on him. "What's wrong?"

"Ron, are you hurt?" Harry eyed the ground Ron was standing on.

Ron shook his head and pointed in Hermione's direction. She and Harry whipped around with their wands out. She stupefied a tree trunk. "You sense something?" Harry asked.

"No, and great Hermione," Ron sighed. "Look behind us."

"We are." She'd been doing that since he'd pointed. "I don't see or sense anything."

"Neither do I." Harry shifted closer to her. "What's wrong?"

"The trail."

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Ron, there is no trail. We've been walking through unadulterated nature. It doesn't look like a human has ever been here."

"Before." Ron tapped his head and started pacing. "I know I remember it. Charlie and Bill have mentioned it."

"Remember what?" Harry was frowning. He looked back the way they'd come again. "Something about the forest?"

She wanted to frown too. Before? This was why she got so frustrated with Ron; he didn't think in a linear process sometimes. Of course it had looked like no one had been there before, no one had. That was part of the reason she'd chosen this area to portkey to. To her, it still looked like no one had been through here. Sure, some branches had broken off in places where one of them had used them for balance, and… okay, so the grass where they'd walked was matted and things crushed by something anyone could tell was a shoe, and large clods of dirt were among the grass from where she'd tripped over a root and it had ripped up out of the ground. In conclusion, it was obvious to anyone who looked that people had been here.

"You think other wizards would be able to track us?" Harry voiced her thoughts.

"I think a drunken house elf could track us from the trail we left." Ron retorted. "I know a spell that can erase our passing but I can't remember it. Charlie taught me it when I visited him on the dragon reserve one year."

"And Bill?" He was a curse breaker so Hermione didn't see how Ron would have observed him use it in the course of his work.

"Bill told me three days ago. I forget how it came up, but he said if you ever need to hide a trail in the woods, the incantation is fivear, feiver, fe-"

"Fievariumus?" Harry supplied.

"That's it!" Ron walked around them. He flicked his wand in five different directions. "Fievariumus!" An orange light shot out the end of his wand back the way they'd come. Hermione could see all the details she'd noticed about their passage vanishing. "And." He faced them. "Carileviumus." The light that enveloped them was also orange. "That should take care of things as we move. Good thing you knew Harry."

"Dumbledore mentioned the spell to me, not in context, but you know how he talks. And Bill… he just told you those?" They had resumed their walk and Harry asked the question as he climbed over a log.

"Yep." Ron was a few feet in front of them. "I thought it was strange at the time, but I still tried to memorize it for later use because I knew it could come in handy. And it did."

Harry glanced back at Hermione, his mouth turning down, then back at Ron. "He didn't suspect did he? You do-"

Ron whirled around. "I didn't tell him if that was what you were about to suggest."

The boy-who-lived's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "No, I was just thinking that maybe Ginny overheard us and told him. She didn't act weird… did she?"

Ron met Harry's eyes and then Hermione's, long enough that she knew he was making sure their trust in him wasn't shaken. She sighed internally; sometimes Ron's inferiority complex was annoying, but at least he had gone beyond childish temper tantrums before he believed they weren't making fun of him. And she couldn't help but wonder from Harry's tone if this was the first time he'd thought about Ginny since they'd got there or if he'd been holding himself back. She'd made the decision to put her possible romantic relationship with Ron on hold until the war was over; she hadn't told Ron that, but from the way he'd treated her she guessed that he'd made a similar choice. Harry had decided the same thing, but she'd expected to have to deal with a little more depression over it; Ron and she might not be dating but they were together, Ginny and Harry were not.

"No, Ginny's been fine considering the circumstances." Ron gave Harry a pointed look and started walking again, slow enough that they could keep up. "And she couldn't have overheard any of our conversations. She was never near them and Hermione's spells would have let us know."

The way he said her 'spells' made her give _him_ a look.

"No offense Mione, but you and your spells were kind of terrifying. It was like six years of knowledge poured out at once after you dragged us into that room and started dictating." Harry shivered.

"Okay." Her voice was clipped. She hadn't been that bad. It was just that she'd been determined to make sure that they had total privacy and after fighting with Death Eaters and the Headmaster's death, she might have been a little overzealous. "So Ginny couldn't have, but that doesn't rule one your other brothers overhearing in the hall or something."

Harry was shaking his head even as Ron said, "no. I thought of that but again, you drove the point of secrecy into me very well and we didn't talk about it anywhere that wasn't secluded and warded."

"Then why do you think that your brother would randomly teach you those spells. He has to suspect something." Harry kicked a branch out of their way.

"Those weren't the only spells he taught me." Ron said quietly. "Bill is a big picture kind of guy as well as being detail oriented. He's told me before that he thinks we should be inducted into the Order. I think that the spells were because he knows the kind of trouble we've gotten into before and that lack of admittance won't stop us from fighting and he's trying to help us out without getting Mom and Dad actively suspicious."

Hermione nodded. That made sense.

"If only more members would be like him." Harry's green eyes narrowed.

"If they were, we wouldn't be in this mess." She ducked to avoid a branch that Ron accidentally sent swinging back to her after he passed it. "Although ultimately, I blame Headmaster Dumbledore, if he'd included us this wouldn't be an issue at all."

Neither of the boys argued with her. Whether it was because they agreed with her or were tired of the argument, they kept their mouths shut. She had not been pleased upon learning what their esteemed headmaster had been hiding from them. She had also not been happy about the fact that the special training she'd been hoping Harry would get was memories of Riddle's life. The memories, while important, could not substitute for decent combat or defense training on the same level of the wizards that they were facing. The old man had left the savior of the wizarding world armed with sixth year magic skills, better than average reflexes, and luck. For a brief moment she'd wanted to resurrect him and kill him herself. She was sad and angry at his death, but part (read: most) of that anger was at him for failing to put his all in helping Harry. She and the boys had had words over it before agreeing to disagree although as more events came to light, she suspected that they were seeing her point of view more and more.

They walked in silence from then on, sometimes stopping for a breather or to help someone, usually Hermione, over an obstacle. When they finally reached the entrance, Ron and Harry were breathing a little heavy and Hermione was almost panting. In her defense, they'd underestimated how far they'd have to walk by about a mile and a half, but even still getting winded like this after walking at a moderate pace for 3.5 miles was not a good sign.

She mentally moved up physical conditioning on the list Harry had been correct in assuming that she'd made. Then she followed the two of them into the tunnel.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here come the different POVs. I hope you all like my take on the female denizens of Slytherin

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

This was probably the last thing that anyone from school would be expecting her to do, Millicent Bulstrode thought as she did her seventy-eighth push-up. In fact, given the recent events that had happened at Hogwarts, the main one being Dumbledore's unfortunate demise, it was the last thing that she herself would have expected. Yet, after coming home to an empty house for the summer, she had found herself slipping back into her same old routine.

She hadn't really cared much about the Headmaster's death beyond acknowledging that a worthy adversary had died, she was Slytherin after all and some of the plots that he'd been hiding were definitely worthy of her house. He might have the rest of Hogwarts fooled, but Sytherin knew his true nature, especially those with political ties. Plus, his death had done nothing more than prove true something that she had expected all year, something that she had no control over at the moment. So, the same old routine it was.

First she had finished what little summer homework she had been given just in case Hogwarts was reopened. That was finished rather quickly as schoolwork had not been on the forefront of anyone's mind at the end of the year and hadn't even needed as much effort as she normally had to put in for Snape's vacation assignments the previous years. Not that it was guaranteed that Snape would be back since he'd apparently killed Dumbledore. She said apparently because the main confirmation on that was Potter and he wasn't always the most valuable of witnesses. Of course, the fact her contacts had confirmed the rebirth of Voldemort in her fourth year as he'd claimed validated his testimony somewhat. The contacts being her parents who, while not being Death Eaters themselves, had Death Eaters among their social circle. That led her back to what she was doing now.

Eighty-three.

She'd had no contact from her parents other than a note telling her not to worry. She'd laughed when she read the note before burning it. Her parents still held the unfortunate belief that she cared for them beyond the perfunctory even when they'd made it clear many a time that her main use to them was just a tool for upward mobility. Her mother barely bothered to pretend anymore and her father never had. It just made them easier to manipulate.

All emotion for her parents had been killed the summer before her second year. Her mother had pulled her aside and explained that they were betrothing her to her fifty-seven year old cousin, to continue their 'pure bloodline' (her older brother, already sixteen had not had any attempt at matchmaking made for him to find the right pureblood bride, nor was he expected to continue on the family name, because he was considered dangerously psychotic on good days _with_his medication). The man had had three previous wives who had all died of some mysterious illness that required them to have closed casket funerals and at his meeting with Millicent, he had mentioned that hopefully she wouldn't 'break as easily' as his other wives had. She had informed her mother that their 'pure bloodline' would end with her if that were the case. While she and Daphne Greengrass had never been close, the Slytherin solidarity necessary for survival at Hogwarts ensured that she had spent enough time in the girl's company to absorb some of her more outlandish views such as why wizards in other countries did not purposely marry anyone they knew they were related to. Pansy had argued against it and Millicent had agreed with her until Daphne convinced them to look into their own family records and they'd noticed the correlation between new blood and power. For Millicent, eleven years of force fed beliefs crumbled in the face of facts and repercussions for her future.

Marriage to her first cousin, and purebloods were wondering why more squibs were being born.

Her parents were no exception, second cousins whose parents had been loosely related as well. Purebloods didn't do incest, no that was severely frowned upon, but if you didn't have the same mother it was fair game. Naturally her mother and father had taken exception to her stance, her mother even going so far as to tell her that with her 'unfortunate looks' this was the best she was likely to get and to reiterate that this was the best way to keep the Bulstrode blood clean. Millicent had just stopped herself from snapping that her 'unfortunate looks' were the by-products of generations of in-breeding and that they should be a little more concerned with their bloodline retaining its magic rather than its purity. However she fortunately (or unfortunately, sometimes she wondered if life would be easier if she was as stupid as everyone thought she was) had inherited the few decent genes left in the brain department of her family (she never failed to marvel at how her parents didn't accidentally burn the house down when she was at school) and knew exactly how to turn a situation to her advantage. The few childhood dreams she had left crushed at her mother's view of her dispensability as a pawn, she had graciously accepted the proposal.

A week later the man had a heart attack and died. She played the dumb hag so well no one had even looked twice at her. Not even her parents, and her mother had showed her how to harvest the poison she'd used. That was when she'd had her second revelation, and had actively begun challenging views she'd beforehand accepted as golden. Not to say that she wanted to suddenly go and hug muggles or muggle-born witches, but over the next two years she came to understand that Voldemort's ideas were based on prejudice rather than fact, and she wouldn't let a bias get in the way of business. Then she had accidentally found out that the Dark Lord himself was a half-blood. Her parents had tried to give her some of her brother's medication that night as her hysterical laughter had not ended for over twenty minutes and Millicent Bulstrode did not laugh.

Once she had overcome the irony of it all, she had realized three things:

1. she had no desire or inclination to become a Death Eater

2. coming from the family she did, this lack of desire was fatal

and finally

3. She did not want to die.

Her routine had been born that same night and she'd begun actively making use of things she'd once ignored and exploiting others more fully.

One hundred and three.

The superficial part of it had been the simplest. People at school, the place where she spent most of her time, would tell you that Pansy had always been the blond, pug nosed one and she was the dark one that looked like a hag. It wasn't that she was hideous, (she was actually the second most attractive to come out of her family in three generations, the most attractive being her brother who lent truth to the adage: the pretty ones always have something wrong with them), it was that she had strong features that would be striking and appealing with the right hair and make-up. Millicent just made sure that she had the opposite: as much hair as possible, frizzy and brittle and dry, stayed in her face at all times and she used eyeliner to deepen the shadows under her eyes which caused a nice zombie effect combined with her pale pasty skin (the one time Pansy had offered lotion Millicent had laughed at her, she never offered again). Then she kept her face perpetually blank to ensure that no one suspected her of having brain power. Throw on baggy shapeless clothes and over sized robes ripped in strategic places and people did double takes to make sure a hag wasn't closing in on them (she enjoyed doing that much more than she should, but the looks of utter terror on their faces and the first year Hufflepuffs' loss of control of their bodily functions made it worth it; Dennis Creevy had once peed his pants in the Great Hall). She was the tallest girl in her class at six' one'' and was big-boned so the outfit gave the impression of great girth and the fact that she started limiting her conversational skills outside Slytherin chambers to grunts worthy of Crabbe and Goyle cemented the idea that she was on the same mental equivalency as a rock.

The view of her as a thug had led her preparations in a direction she hadn't foreseen. Wizards were, on the whole, not a very athletic people as the only sport they had was Quidditch and that was played on a broom so it required far less physical rigor than muggle sports. She had discovered muggle sports through muggle studies, a class she'd taken to 'know her enemy' as she'd told her parents. The description of physical training had interested her and she'd decided that she might as well develop some muscles if everyone expected her to be muscled out any way. Her parents weren't home when she'd started her exercise regiment which was just as well as she'd have gotten a one-way ticket to St. Mungos to be with her brother. Getting in top physical condition surprisingly had also helped with endurance in spell work and her reaction time with a wand. Two things that had more to do with the last part of her regime.

One hundred and thirty.

Millicent rolled over on her back, allowed herself ten seconds of rest before smoothly standing up and getting some water. Her legs ached from the five miles she'd just run and her arms burned from her push-ups. Every muscle in her body cried out for relief and she relished the feeling of complete exhaustion before heading towards her library to start on spell work. It was important to know how to defend yourself if you were breathless and couldn't concentrate enough for wandless spells. You never knew when the skill would save your life.

Millicent entered her own private library, a perk of being the only daughter of an extremely wealthy family. She might not have Draco's wealth, but she was damn close and the Ministry wasn't trying to close _her_assets. Her collection of books was what you might expect from a young pureblood girl: the standard spell books, an occasional text hinting at dark magic, and books on cosmetic charms. There were even a few Witch Weekly magazines laying on the table in the center. She did a complicated motion with her wand, then breathed. " Brathaire." Instantly half the book titles changes, becoming a mix of books that wouldn't look out of place in any borderline dark wizard's shelf. The magazines became scrolls, filled with her blocky writing, and she grabbed the stack and plopped down at the table.

Her work was grey enough that it would be welcome by either side, she knew, but she trusted the motives of neither. Voldemort was a power-hungry megalomaniac who was repeatedly defeated by a child less than half his age. When not in possession of prisoners to torture, he used his minions. She'd rather not. The Order was not much better with their leader dead and the Ministry attempting to get rid of them. The job security was a little better there, but suffering fools was never her style and there was only so much Weasley that she could take before she started casting Unforgivables. Thus, Millicent was on her own side, in true Slytherin fashion.

It was actually disgusting, the way that people from other houses automatically cast all Slytherins as Death Eaters because a couple famous Dark wizards had originated there. The other houses had their own share of Dark wizards, she'd always felt that they were jealous because the ones from her house were on another level. Not that there weren't some Slytherins ready to pledge their service, inbreeding effected the mind after all, there just weren't as many as it seemed.

Draco Malfoy came to mind, all though she was certain that he wasn't the willful Death Eater that the Prophet was painting him out to be. This conclusion came from the letter lying on the table. Draco didn't do anything so gauche as state what he wanted outright in the owl she had gotten from him, but the sending spoke more than she was sure he wanted to reveal. Had he been enjoying Death Eater job perks, there was no way that he'd even think about writing to her. One of the many drawbacks of the reputation of the house was that some of her housemates had started to believe the rumors and as such she could count her true friends in the House on one hand with fingers left over.

Draco was not one of them.

In his letter he mentioned forming a mutually beneficial alliance with her, one that would increase her own survival in this war. Since Millicent had not been aware that her immediate survival was in question at all, she was in the mind to owl him back just to touch up on that point as he had no doubt intended. However, the sticking point was that he seemed to indicate that she wouldn't be the only one at this meeting. She was loathe to go to any place where she did not know the other players previously, but he had piqued her curiosity.

She picked up a light-feathered quill and twirled it in her fingers.

Dumbledore's death had opened a flood gate and more people were disappearing or being murdered than even in the first war with Voldemort. She still didn't know where her parents were. And she'd hate to waste all her training by becoming another piece of faceless cannon fodder for the mentally unbalanced self-proclaimed Dark Lord.

Her quill danced across her paper as she penned a small note Draco. It wouldn't hurt to pool resources for a bit. They were housemates after all.

Daphne didn't know how to react. One minute she was in her room sharpening her athames, the next second a large sobbing blond hysterical mess appeared on the floor. Daphne had a moment to think-what now?- before the mass launched itself at her. Pansy grabbed her waist and buried her face into her stomach, her sobs retaining their heaviness and the hysterical undertone like she was going to start screaming at any moment in her voice. It was all Daphne could do to cautiously pat her distressed friend's head, recognizing this enough to know that she wouldn't get any information out of the witch until she calmed down.

Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass had been best friends since second year when they had teamed up against Theo Nott for his never-ending pranks. With Pansy's easy guile and Daphne's subtleness they had concocted a plan that put him in the hospital for two weeks. The success of that endeavor made them decide that there was no reason to mess up a good thing. They had been best friends ever since, something that few Slytherins could boast. It was Daphne who Pansy complained to constantly about Malfoy's ever changing affections, while Daphne used Pansy as a soundboard for her future ideas (read plots). They both also snarked endlessly about the overt prejudice Dumbledore showed for Gryffindor house. Or, had shown for that matter. Daphne was still adjusting to the fact that their esteemed Headmaster was dead. Away from school in the privacy of her manor, it seemed that the events at the end of the school year were part of a fantasy world. Any minute she'd wake up, Dumbledore would still be the unspoken Slytherin nemesis (eat your heart out Potter), Snape wouldn't be accused of murder and Draco certainly wouldn't be wanted for attempted murder.

" Draco!" Pansy sobbed, the first audible thing Daphne had heard since she first arrived. " Why?"

Daphne patted her on the head again. Poor thing, crying over a male. She had to be distraught.

" If only he had…" Her sobs increased at this point, punctuated by wet sniffs and Daphne made a mental note to burn her shirt when this was finished.

" Had what?" She asked absently. Pansy had wanted Draco to do a lot of things but the boy was so obsessed with Potter and his own arrogance that he hardly gave her the time of day. Were Pansy not head-over-heels for him, Daphne had no doubt that she would hex him for the way he treated her. Daphne had certainly been tempted to, time after time, but instead had to settle for subtle charms that Malfoy was too obtuse to realize were from her. It wasn't that she didn't like Malfoy, she could tolerate him fine, the issue came into play because his mere presence had the effect of rendering Pansy besides herself, Pansy in this state was useless to her and she did not like useless things. As such she tried her best to keep the two separated. In fourth year she had even considered seducing him to ruin their relationship, but she wasn't yet able to fake the desire needed. Malfoy lacked melanin: the albino look did nothing for her. Pansy and she would never agree on men.

Pansy hiccupped and her arms tightened around Daphne's waist. "Why!"

Daphne shrugged, deciding to give her one more minute before she slapped her out of her fit. As if sensing the direction her friend's thoughts were taking, Pansy's sobs gradually subsided until she was just sniffing loudly. Daphne stepped out of her grasp and sat on her bed. Pansy rubbed her eyes, stood up, brushed off her robes, then sat in the chair at the desk.

After one last sniff, Pansy cast a silent spell on herself, getting rid of the signs of her water works. " I assume that you would like an explanation?"

" That would be a good place to start." Daphne was just able to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She was surprised that her parents hadn't come running to her door to see what had tripped the wards. She had keyed the wards to accept Pansy in case her friend needed a quick place to escape without worrying about being followed. The Death Eaters, Order, and Ministry were experienced, but not enough to get past the Greengrass family wards, wards that had existed since before Pansy's nth great grandfather had even thought about children.

The blonde frowned slightly, her pug nose wrinkling as if she were searching for words to say. The witch across from her remained unmoved; Pansy was one of the best actresses to go through Slytherin since the Black sisters; she already knew what she wanted to say. After a heartfelt sigh which gained no reaction from her best friend, she began.

" Draco didn't kill Dumbledore."

Daphne blinked, trying to think ahead to see where this was going. " I know that, Professor Snape did."

" Exactly, but Draco was ordered to kill him, not Snape."

Daphne cocked her head to the side as her brain processed this. She'd known Draco was up to something last year what with his constant state of tension, increased furtiveness, and his borrowing girl's uniforms. Add in Potter doing a horrible job at trailing him and anyone with an ounce of sense could put two and two together and realize that Draco was part of the Death Eaters entrance into Hogwarts. But Pansy knew that Daphne knew that Draco was behind the plot so this had to with… " He is still going to be punished as if he failed?"

" Yes. The Dark Lord plans to make an example of him for not completing his directions exactly as he stated. Apparently some of the newer recruits require an example of what happens to those who fail him."

" So you're crying over the loss of the boy who never was yours?" Daphne could have put it a bit more tactfully as Pansy's mouth tightened and her eyes started to tear up, but the more she drove the point home, the sooner Pansy would get over the prat. That was the idea anyway.

The other witch looked away for a second. " No," her voice was completely normal despite her tensed shoulders. " I was demonstrating grief over something much more important. It's necessary to inform you of Draco's situation before I reveal it." Pansy met her eyes and Daphne read nothing but sincerity in them.

" Continue."

" Draco came to me with information and an offer, one that I think would be beneficial to us both." She stood up. " But first…" She took her wand out performed several different anti-listening charms, most of them several levels above the spells taught in seventh year curriculum, and one particularly powerful one that didn't have a Latin base and required Pansy to use her wandless hand as well.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. " My aren't we paranoid. And where did you dig up that last one?"

Pansy smirked and smoothed out her robes before transfiguring the chair into a chaise and spreading herself over it. " I'm not without my traditional family spells. The Dark Lord himself won't be able to listen in on us."

Daphne nodded. Every pureblood family had their own special techniques. Any wizard or witch with half a brain knew not to challenge a Greengrass in or near anything that grew green. She still remembered stories about her great-grandmother who had defeated an entire army in a forest. The tale wasn't too clear on whether or not the ground had swallowed them up or if they had been turned into trees, but it stated very plainly that great-gran Sethunya was the only one out of eighty to leave the forest. The bodies of the others had never been found. She would receive that grimoire of family magic in less than a month, once she was of age. " So the Parkinson are of Nordic descent?" She asked casually. The language that last spell was in was definitely from one of the older Norse languages.

" You have a good ear."

" I'm Slytherin."

They both smiled at each other, the banter taking the tension level in the room down a few notches. Pansy stretched her legs out along the chaise lounge and Daphne propped herself up on her bed.

" So?" She prompted.

" The Dark Lord wants to resurrect the Old Ways."

Daphne froze in the act of running her hand through her braids and all her years of Slytherin polish left her. " What?" She must have heard wrong; as psychotic as the Dark Lord was reputed to be, that had to be beyond him. She opened her mouth to question his sanity, then closed it since she already knew the answer. " Why?"

" He wants to overthrow the Ministry and set himself up as a Lord of old." Pansy said this in the same way that someone else might discuss the weather.

Daphne shuddered. The Old Ways, capitol O capitol W, were a time in wizarding history that few historians even thought about, Dark and Light both. It was a time so bloody it made the goblin wars look like arguments over spilt pumpkin juice. The very knowledge about it was paradoxical as it wasn't taught in school, for fear of someone getting a bright idea, but every wizard or witch who had grown up in the wizarding world knew about it so they wouldn't accidentally repeat it. Tales and legends about the Old Ways were the wizarding world's greatest horror stories as the things the normal wizard were said to have done made Voldemort and his Death Eaters look like bunnies: cute bunnies with fluffy tails. Wizarding kind had had powers and life-spans only glimpsed at today and no fear of muggle discovery. Of course, this last part was because morals weren't the same then as they were now and any muggle who was unfortunate to come across a wizard using magic generally became potion's ingredients. Dead men tell no tales, well, to muggles that is as necromancers weren't uncommon during the Old Ways. The era hadn't ended until muggles outnumbered wizards and the Lords of that time had gotten together and done the first great working which had severely limited wizarding and elemental power. It had still taken decades for the effects to wear off and even longer before the various Ministries of Magic had been established and obeyed.

" Can a half-blood even do that?" Daphne blurted out, still in complete shock.

" What?" For the first time since Pansy had come into her room crying, her emotion was genuine and disbelief rivaling Daphne's slipped past her calm façade. " The Dark Lord can't be-"

" Oh he is. Millicent told me and I followed up on it."

" Millicent?" Pansy was incredulous. " The witch in our year slightly less dim than Crabbe and Goyle?"

" You'd be surprised at how insightful she can be at times. I'm not sure that all the grunting isn't just an act. She overheard me railing about Dumbledore one day and mentioned it. His name is Tom Riddle, muggle on his father's side. He was the star student during his time."

" Eew." Pansy made a face. " That puts things into perspective."

Daphne waved it away. " But that's not the issue at hand. How did Draco discover all of this? I know that You-know-who hasn't brainwashed everyone in his circle to the point of being able to take something like this sitting down, so this wasn't a general announcement."

" He found out through Snape who, after his murder of Dumbledore, is the Dark Lord's unquestioned favorite. I validated his information through my own means." She didn't need to elaborate on 'her own means' as Daphne already knew it meant 'I got my inner circle Death Eater father drunk under veritaseum and interrogated the truth out of him'.

" And Snape just told Draco this out of the goodness of his heart?" That fit into no behavior models of Snape that she could think up. "Why didn't he hand him over to you-know-who?"

" Snape is helping Draco hide." Pansy's tone still hadn't reached the level of nonchalance it had had before Daphne's revelation, but it was close.

Daphne's brain processed this with an almost audible click and whirl. She knew through Pansy who had learned from Draco who knew from his mother and aunt that Snape had performed an Unbreakable Vow to help him with his task. She hadn't learned this until after the school year was over and Pansy had pulled the story from a surprisingly verbose Draco and then informed her to keep her in the loop. The knowledge had made the situation regarding Dumbledore's death clearer, as well as gave her insight into certain people's loyalty. The cogs turned and: " the second part of the Unbreakable Vow. Narcissa is brilliant."

" Exactly, Snape has to help Draco. And it gets worse."

" Worse than a madman resurrecting the Old Ways?" She shot back flippantly.

Pansy laughed. It was neither a happy or reassuring one. " Well, worse from our point of view. The spell required to reverse a great working calls for twenty young pure-blood sacrifices." She paused to let this sink in; Daphne's expression didn't change. " You and I are on that list. I was placed there by dear old dad."

The room was silent as Daphne turned the issue over in her head. This was not the way that she had predicted this heading. Finally she reached a decision.

" You said Draco had an idea…?"

Pansy just handed her a letter.


	3. Chapter 3

Daphne didn't know how to react. One minute she was in her room sharpening her athames, the next second a large sobbing blond hysterical mess appeared on the floor. Daphne had a moment to think-what now?- before the mass launched itself at her. Pansy grabbed her waist and buried her face into her stomach, her sobs retaining their heaviness and the hysterical undertone like she was going to start screaming at any moment in her voice. It was all Daphne could do to cautiously pat her distressed friend's head, recognizing this enough to know that she wouldn't get any information out of the witch until she calmed down.

Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass had been best friends since second year when they had teamed up against Theo Nott for his never-ending pranks. With Pansy's easy guile and Daphne's subtleness they had concocted a plan that put him in the hospital for two weeks. The success of that endeavor made them decide that there was no reason to mess up a good thing. They had been best friends ever since, something that few Slytherins could boast. It was Daphne who Pansy complained to constantly about Malfoy's ever changing affections, while Daphne used Pansy as a soundboard for her future ideas (read plots). They both also snarked endlessly about the overt prejudice Dumbledore showed for Gryffindor house.

Or, had shown for that matter. Daphne was still adjusting to the fact that their esteemed Headmaster was dead. Away from school in the privacy of her manor, it seemed that the events at the end of the school year were part of a fantasy world. Any minute she'd wake up, Dumbledore would still be the unspoken Slytherin nemesis (eat your heart out Potter), Snape wouldn't be accused of murder and Draco certainly wouldn't be wanted for attempted murder.

" Draco!" Pansy sobbed, the first audible thing Daphne had heard since she first arrived. " Why?"

Daphne patted her on the head again. Poor thing, crying over a male. She had to be distraught.

" If only he had…" Her sobs increased at this point, punctuated by wet sniffs and Daphne made a mental note to burn her shirt when this was finished.

" Had what?" She asked absently. Pansy had wanted Draco to do a lot of things but the boy was so obsessed with Potter and his own arrogance that he hardly gave her the time of day. Were Pansy not head-over-heels for him, Daphne had no doubt that she would hex him for the way he treated her. Daphne had certainly been tempted to, time after time, but instead had to settle for subtle charms that Malfoy was too obtuse to realize were from her.

It wasn't that she didn't like Malfoy, she could tolerate him fine, the issue came into play because his mere presence had the effect of rendering Pansy besides herself, Pansy in this state was useless to her and she did not like useless things. As such she tried her best to keep the two separated. In fourth year she had even considered seducing him to ruin their relationship, but she wasn't yet able to fake the desire needed. Malfoy lacked melanin: the albino look did nothing for her. Pansy and she would never agree on men.

Pansy hiccupped and her arms tightened around Daphne's waist. "Why!"

Daphne shrugged, deciding to give her one more minute before she slapped her out of her fit. As if sensing the direction her friend's thoughts were taking, Pansy's sobs gradually subsided until she was just sniffing loudly. Daphne stepped out of her grasp and sat on her bed. Pansy rubbed her eyes, stood up, brushed off her robes, then sat in the chair at the desk.

After one last sniff, Pansy cast a silent spell on herself, getting rid of the signs of her water works. "I assume that you would like an explanation?"

"That would be a good place to start." Daphne was just able to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She was surprised that her parents hadn't come running to her door to see what had tripped the wards. She had keyed the wards to accept Pansy in case her friend needed a quick place to escape without worrying about being followed. The Death Eaters, Order, and Ministry were experienced, but not enough to get past the Greengrass family wards, wards that had existed since before Pansy's nth great grandfather had even thought about children.

The blonde frowned slightly, her pug nose wrinkling as if she were searching for words to say. The witch across from her remained unmoved; Pansy was one of the best actresses to go through Slytherin since the Black sisters; she already knew what she wanted to say. After a heartfelt sigh which gained no reaction from her best friend, she began.

"Draco didn't kill Dumbledore."

Daphne blinked, trying to think ahead to see where this was going. "I know that, Professor Snape did."

"Exactly, but Draco was ordered to kill him, not Snape."

Daphne cocked her head to the side as her brain processed this. She'd known Draco was up to something last year what with his constant state of tension, increased furtiveness, and his borrowing girl's uniforms. Add in Potter doing a horrible job at trailing him and anyone with an ounce of sense could put two and two together and realize that Draco was part of the Death Eaters entrance into Hogwarts. But Pansy knew that Daphne knew that Draco was behind the plot so this had to with… "He is still going to be punished as if he failed?"

"Yes. The Dark Lord plans to make an example of him for not completing his directions exactly as he stated. Apparently some of the newer recruits require an example of what happens to those who fail him."

"So you're crying over the loss of the boy who never was yours?" Daphne could have put it a bit more tactfully as Pansy's mouth tightened and her eyes started to tear up, but the more she drove the point home, the sooner Pansy would get over the prat. That was the idea anyway.

The other witch looked away for a second. "No," her voice was completely normal despite her tensed shoulders. "I was demonstrating grief over something much more important. It's necessary to inform you of Draco's situation before I reveal it." Pansy met her eyes and Daphne read nothing but sincerity in them.

"Continue."

"Draco came to me with information and an offer, one that I think would be beneficial to us both." She stood up. "But first…" She took her wand out performed several different anti-listening charms, most of them several levels above the spells taught in seventh year curriculum, and one particularly powerful one that didn't have a Latin base and required Pansy to use her wandless hand as well.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "My aren't we paranoid. And where did you dig up that last one?"

Pansy smirked and smoothed out her robes before transfiguring the chair into a chaise and spreading herself over it. "I'm not without my traditional family spells. The Dark Lord himself won't be able to listen in on us."

Daphne nodded. Every pureblood family had their own special techniques. Any wizard or witch with half a brain knew not to challenge a Greengrass in or near anything that grew green. She still remembered stories about her great-grandmother who had defeated an entire army in a forest. The tale wasn't too clear on whether or not the ground had swallowed them up or if they had been turned into trees, but it stated very plainly that great-gran Sethunya was the only one out of eighty to leave the forest. The bodies of the others had never been found. She would receive that grimoire of family magic in less than a month, once she was of age.

"So the Parkinson are of Nordic descent?" She asked casually. The language that last spell was in was definitely from one of the older Norse languages.

"You have a good ear."

"I'm Slytherin."

They both smiled at each other, the banter taking the tension level in the room down a few notches. Pansy stretched her legs out along the chaise lounge and Daphne propped herself up on her bed.

"So?" She prompted.

"The Dark Lord wants to resurrect the Old Ways."

Daphne froze in the act of running her hand through her braids and all her years of Slytherin polish left her. " What?"

She must have heard wrong; as psychotic as the Dark Lord was reputed to be, that had to be beyond him. She opened her mouth to question his sanity, then closed it since she already knew the answer. "Why?"

"He wants to overthrow the Ministry and set himself up as a Lord of old." Pansy said this in the same way that someone else might discuss the weather.

Daphne shuddered.

The Old Ways, capitol O capitol W, were a time in wizarding history that few historians even thought about, Dark and Light both. It was a time so bloody it made the goblin wars look like arguments over spilt pumpkin juice. The very knowledge about it was paradoxical as it wasn't taught in school, for fear of someone getting a bright idea, but every wizard or witch who had grown up in the wizarding world knew about it so they wouldn't accidentally repeat it. Tales and legends about the Old Ways were the wizarding world's greatest horror stories as the things the normal wizard were said to have done made Voldemort and his Death Eaters look like bunnies: cute bunnies with fluffy tails. Wizarding kind had had powers and life-spans only glimpsed at today and no fear of muggle discovery. Of course, this last part was because morals weren't the same then as they were now and any muggle who was unfortunate to come across a wizard using magic generally became potion's ingredients. Dead men tell no tales, well, to muggles that is as necromancers weren't uncommon during the Old Ways. The era hadn't ended until muggles outnumbered wizards and the Lords of that time had gotten together and done the first great working which had severely limited wizarding and elemental power. It had still taken decades for the effects to wear off and even longer before the various Ministries of Magic had been established and obeyed.

"Can a half-blood even do that?" Daphne blurted out, still in complete shock.

"What?" For the first time since Pansy had come into her room crying, her emotion was genuine and disbelief rivaling Daphne's slipped past her calm façade. "The Dark Lord can't be-"

"Oh he is. Millicent told me and I followed up on it."

"Millicent?" Pansy was incredulous. "The witch in our year slightly less dim than Crabbe and Goyle?"

"You'd be surprised at how insightful she can be at times. I'm not sure that all the grunting isn't just an act. She overheard me railing about Dumbledore one day and mentioned it. His name is Tom Riddle, muggle on his father's side. He was the star student during his time."

"Eew." Pansy made a face. "That puts things into perspective."

Daphne waved it away. "But that's not the issue at hand. How did Draco discover all of this? I know that You-know-who hasn't brainwashed everyone in his circle to the point of being able to take something like this sitting down, so this wasn't a general announcement."

"He found out through Snape who, after his murder of Dumbledore, is the Dark Lord's unquestioned favorite. I validated his information through my own means." She didn't need to elaborate on 'her own means' as Daphne already knew it meant 'I got my inner circle Death Eater father drunk with veritaseum spiked alcohol and interrogated the truth out of him'.

"And Snape just told Draco this out of the goodness of his heart?" That fit into no behavior models of Snape that she could think up. "Why didn't he hand him over to you-know-who?"

"Snape is helping Draco hide." Pansy's tone still hadn't reached the level of nonchalance it had had before Daphne's revelation, but it was close.

Daphne's brain processed this with an almost audible click and whirl. She knew through Pansy who had learned from Draco who knew from his mother and aunt that Snape had performed an Unbreakable Vow to help him with his task. She hadn't learned this until after the school year was over and Pansy had pulled the story from a surprisingly verbose Draco and then informed her to keep her in the loop. The knowledge had made the situation regarding Dumbledore's death clearer, as well as gave her insight into certain people's loyalty. The cogs turned and: "the second part of the Unbreakable Vow. Narcissa is brilliant."

"Exactly, Snape has to help Draco. And it gets worse."

"Worse than a madman resurrecting the Old Ways?" She shot back flippantly.

Pansy laughed. It was neither a happy or reassuring one. "Well, worse from our point of view. The spell required to reverse a great working calls for twenty young pure-blood sacrifices." She paused to let this sink in; Daphne's expression didn't change. "You and I are on that list. I was placed there by dear old dad."

The room was silent as Daphne turned the issue over in her head. This was not the way that she had predicted this heading. Finally she reached a decision.

"You said Draco had an idea…?"

Pansy just handed her a letter.

* * *

Malfoy's letter had called for a meeting at six A.M. in a muggle shack in the middle of nowhere. Millicent had arrived a mile away at five-thirty and scoped out the area. She might have extended her trust in accepting this, but her common sense and self-preservation skills tacked on a few conditions. Which led here, in a chair in the surprisingly furnished cabin (she shouldn't have expected less from a Malfoy; they'd waste magic on a cosmetic charm when fighting for their life if they thought their hair was out of place), winded and alone, still fifteen minutes early. She hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She'd rather be paranoid than dead, and at the rate the Ministry was churning out statutes and the Death Eaters were leaving bodies, that was a closer possibility than it had been when Malfoy had requested the meeting a week ago.

At five-fifty, one of her spells alerted her that someone had apparated in and a moment later Draco Malfoy walked in. He was much thinner than she remembered, his worn robes hanging off him awkwardly in a manner reminiscent of their werewolf professor from third year. He had grown a few inches and combined with his thinness this emphasized his pointy features severely and made him seem brittle, as if one good push would finish him completely. His complexion was so pale that were it not for the blonde tinge to his hair he could have passed for an albino. The confident swagger was gone, as was his ever-present sneer. The only thing that remained of the arrogant pureblood from school was his grey eyes; while they had that aged look achieved only through war or extreme grief, they still shone with the full intensity of his personality. You'd only be fooled into thinking he was broken until he looked at you, then you'd remember the resilience of the Malfoys, that his name meant dragon. That he'd dared to face one of the greatest wizards of the ages. Millicent processed this in the same amount of time that it took him to process the wand she had pointed at him.

"Bulstrode," he said by way of greeting, his eyes never leaving her wand. She felt a poke in her mind and shoved him out. His eyes flashed to hers.

"Malfoy. I expected you earlier." She lowered her wand slowly and placed it in her lap, eyes remaining on his the entire time telling him that if he so much as flinched wrong she'd hex him off of this planet. With his letter Malfoy had shown that he'd seen through her façade which meant that there was no use playing dumb in her usual school front.

He blinked and came fully into the cabin. She had taken a chair against the far wall of the cabin that allowed her to see the whole room and he took a seat opposite hers, one that left him more vulnerable than a person in his position would allow. Even as she thought it, he moved the chair into a better position and set his own wand in his lap. Only then did he look back at her.

"You're not what I expected," was his conversation opener.

"I never am," Millicent returned. "Why did you ask me here then?"

He shrugged. "I knew there had to be more to you. Your Crabbe and Goyle impression was never spot on. I ha- hung out with them enough to notice."

So he wasn't as indifferent to his thugs as he pretended to be. Millicent stored that tidbit away to be used later. "But not enough to care before now."

"Times change and I remembered that you never seemed to do as bad on tests as your behavior indicated you should have." His eyes glittered strangely as he went on. "Most of the school brushes you off as a stupid hag, but you aren't. That takes acting ability and it means that you are one of the few real Slytherins in our house."

It was a backwards compliment, but it was one of the few that Millicent had ever received. "Is that who is gathering here? People you have deemed true Slytherins?"

A glimmer went through his eyes again. "People who can understand the problem and work positively to solve it."

Millicent's spell alerted her to another arrival just as Draco looked at the door. Blaise Zabini strode in leisurely, wand in hand. He examined the room with a flick of his eyes before taking a chair two seats away from Millicent so he could see both other occupants of the room. The black wizard hadn't changed since she had seen him, other than his height; he was now about two inches taller than Draco and about five inches taller than her. His arresting features were the same, the male version of his mother, a woman who was said to be the modern day Helen of Troy, beautiful and just as dangerous. He too lacked the arrogance that usually surrounded him like a second skin. She wondered what had happened to cause that or, as she remembered the Ministry's latest strive to stomp out both the Dark Lord and the Order, which decree.

He nodded at her. "Millicent."

She had always had an understanding with Blaise. He knew too many secrets for her not to. "Blaise."

Then he looked at Draco and he sneered. "Malfoy."

This seemed to be the incentive needed for Draco to pull out his own offensive sneer. "Zabini."

The two boys had never liked each other which was why Millicent was surprised that Malfoy had invited him. From the looks they were giving each other, their relationship hadn't progressed any further from that.

"Is this-" Her spell alerting her of two more apparitions stopped her from finishing her question of if they were waiting for anyone else.

Neither Draco nor Blaise acknowledged her slip as they both turned to the door. The two witches who entered were a study of contrasts. Pansy Parkinson was first and she had eyes only for the blond wizard (who, when Millicent peered closer, seemed to shrink into himself at the sight of her). "Drakkiekins!" She shrieked. Millicent was not the only one who winced.

If Millicent was the poster child for the ugly Slytherin; Pansy was the golden girl. Most when demonizing their house would mention Millicent for her 'resemblance' to a hag and then Pansy's pug face, as if that made her hideous which anyone with two good eyes in their head could see that she wasn't. Her 'pug' face was impartially described as heart-shaped with a button nose, and this combined with her stylish blond hair, light blue eyes, and petite stature led to the next adjective describing her: cute. And Pansy knew it and played it up whenever she could. Pansy was an opportunist and a consummate actress. It was sometimes a trial to know when she was in fact telling the truth. Her only true fault was her senseless obsession with Draco Malfoy.

The aforementioned wizard sweated lightly as she advanced on him, intending Merlin only knew what. Her progress was halted when the witch she arrived with cleared her throat. Pansy instead took a seat next to Draco while her partner-in-crime sat next to her and across from Blaise.

Daphne Greengrass was Pansy's opposite in many ways, the most obvious being her chocolate skin tone, tall stature at only a few inches shorter than Millicent, and long dark hair which was ever changing styles but currently in braids. When other houses talked about the evilness of Slytherin showing through their looks, Daphne was never mentioned. She would fit right in a painting of Ancient Nubian royalty with her looks and bearing. However, she never flaunted this. With Daphne, it was all about subtlety and you had to pay close attention to avoid becoming one of her tools. And everyone was a tool to Daphne.

"Malfoy, Zabini, Millicent." Daphne greeted everyone in the room with a slight nod of her head and poise that the muggle queen of England would have envied. Her wand had made its way into her lap.

Millicent smiled at her. "Daphne." She was the only witch who had ever seen through her.

"Ladies," Blaise addressed both newcomers.

Draco nodded at them both, then stood. He held his wand up. "There is no one else coming so I'm going to make sure this stays private and for our ears only."

He waited for a sign of agreement from everyone before he cast a series of complicated spells that enveloped the room in an unnatural silence and ensured that they would not be discovered. Millicent listened and watched intently, ready to hex the blond wizard at the first hint that a spell was not what it was supposed to be. Her other housemates seemed to lounge in their chairs, but she noticed that each one of their eyes followed Draco's spellcasting. After the last syllable he refolded into his chair and sat straight up. Everyone leaned in, recognizing that he was starting. "The last spell I cast will guarantee that this information doesn't leave this room or the people who've discussed it. Just a little insurance to make sure that no one gets any bright ideas and tries to turn me in. Just say, I agree."

No one moved or spoke. Millicent raised her eyebrows; did Malfoy actually think anyone was going to agree to anything without hearing it first? She'd recognized the spell, but it would be simple for a wizard of Malfoy's level to tamper with it so it would suit his own needs. As a Slytherin, it was expected, but as a Malfoy, it was certain.

After a minute, Draco sighed and raised his wand so it sparked red. " My wizarding oath that agreeing to this will only stop talking about information learned in this room with anyone besides this room's occupants."

That would do, a wizarding oath could not be broken lightly. "I agree." Millicent stated. This was echoed by the other three Slytherins.

"Now why are we here Malfoy?" Daphne asked. "What's this offer?"

Draco smiled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves Greengrass. We want everyone to start off on the same level."

"And what level is that?" Blaise eyed his nails.

"A level of information." Draco smirked as Blaise's eyes snapped to his.

"Information on what?" He fired.

"We're getting to that." Draco crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair and for a second Millicent glimpsed the cocky second year who'd informed them all that his father had brought _his_ Quidditch team the latest brooms.

"Get to it quicker." Millicent jumped in to keep it from becoming a pissing contest between the two wizards. Blaise shot her an unfriendly look. Sometimes she didn't understand men.

Where before Draco would have pouted at not getting his way, he simply nodded and went on. This was so out of character for him that Millicent performed a silent spell that checked for Polyjuice potion. It came up negative.

Draco shook his head at the room. "Don't worry." Here he gave the famous Malfoy smirk. "There is only one Draco Malfoy and he is sitting in front of you." Apparently she hadn't been the only one suspicious.

"Of course Draco," Pansy patted him on the shoulder with the hand that wasn't placing her still smoking wand back in her lap. " Explain."

He sat up again and took a deep breath, Millicent could see him preparing himself. "Now, as you all know, I planned on becoming a Death Eater."

"Like your father." Blaise put in snidely.

Draco's arm twitched. "Yes, like father. However because of his failure of the last mission the Dark Lord assigned him, the Dark Lord sought to use me to punish him and denied me instant access to his ranks, instead making me do an initiation task that his most senior Death Eaters had failed at."

"Kill Dumbledore," Pansy supplied in a stage whisper.

"If I didn't, it would be my parents' lives. So-"

"Malfoy," Blaise cut him off. "I know that everyone in this room knows this already. Get to the point."

Draco glared at him. "Did you know about the Unbreakable oath Snape swore to my mother over this?" When Blaise didn't respond, he sneered down his nose at him. "I thought not. Mother made him swear to finish my task if I failed _and_ to protect me. You all know the results of the first condition, what you didn't know is that the second condition has yet to end, so Snape has still been protecting me, even from the Dark Lord, by helping me hide from Aurors and by giving me information. That is why I set up this meeting." Draco paused, weighing his next words. "The time has come for us to take the future into our own hands."

"Malfoy, quit with the dramatics and get on with it." Daphne snapped with a sentiment that Millicent agreed with.

Pansy touched Draco's arm again, this time petting rather than patting. "Don't worry Daphne, Draco's getting there."

Blaise snorted. "Rather slowly."

"It's not wise to taunt the wizard with information Zabini." Draco removed his arm from Pansy's grasp and tried to subtly move his chair over.

"Yes, there are plenty of other ways to… extract… the information." Blaise twirled his wand in his fingers idly.

"Better wizards than you have tried, Zabini!" Draco spat at him, his face turning bright red from his sudden fury. The light above them flickered.

Well, that was obviously a sore spot, Millicent thought, storing it away for future use. Still, they were getting off subject again. "Boys, as interesting as this is, can you act like reasonable adults for the rest of our business here and play who's is bigger on your own time?" She made sure that disdain dripped from her every word, a trick she'd picked up from her mother.

All the attention in the room reverted to her and she had the satisfaction of seeing a split second view behind everyone's masks; Pansy's jaw dropped and Daphne had to elbow her to get her to shut it. Millicent met everyone's eyes in turn as she continued. "We all came here to hear what Malfoy has to say, with our own reasons. This journey will be worthless if we leave without the information we want, so be quiet and Malfoy, get on with it."

A moment passed during which Pansy's look of shock morphed into one of supreme interest and Blaise smirked ever so slightly, then Draco cleared his throat and closed his eyes. His entire frame tensed for a minute then utterly relaxed, when he opened his eyes they were as hard as concrete.

"Three weeks ago, when Snape and I first went into hiding, Snape was finally let completely into the Dark Lord's inner circle." Millicent noticed his left arm tic at the mention of Voldemort; Daphne's eyes narrowed at the motion as well. His omission of Dumbledore's death also spoke volumes. "He was also told more about the eventual goal that the Death Eaters are working for."

Blaise looked like he was going to open his mouth at this point, but a look from Draco silenced him. "The eradication of mudbloods is not the Dark Lord's ultimate goal. He wants them reclassified as enchanted creatures and enslaved like the house elves. What the Dark Lord is really aiming for, using blood hatred as a vehicle to get there, is something much more sinister." He took a deep breath.

"Out with it already Malfoy." Daphne snapped. This time Pansy elbowed her.

"Out with it… ha!" The blond wizard smiled, (well, Millicent assumed the ghastly stretch of his mouth was meant to be a smile though it made him seem pained). "News like this does not just come 'out'." He threw back his head and laughed mirthlessly.

Millicent knew that she was not the only one who questioned his sanity. Three weeks since his failed attempt at killing Voldemort and Draco was obviously not as together as he would have everybody believe. This was another tidbit to be tucked away and used later.

He stopped laughing and it was as if a switch had been turned off as all other emotion left his face as well. "The Dark Lord plans to resurrect the Old Ways."

His words were like a punch to her stomach. In all of the possible future scenarios she had prepared for from muggleborn genocide a la Hitler to a French revolution type Reign of Terror (muggle studies was surprisingly handy when it came to looking for psychotic blood-thirsty tyrants), a return to the Old Ways was never contemplated.

Never, because she hadn't thought Voldemort was that crazy.

Years of emulating a rock kept her emotions of her face, but that only meant that her mouth didn't open and close like a fish's. Blaise (and she only remembered this later when she was going over the memory to see if there was anything she forgot) stared blankly at Draco without any of the arrogance or nonchalance that he had been displaying moments before. Strangely, the other two witches were unaffected. Millicent hadn't caught their reactions directly after Draco's announcement, but now they were lounging back in their chairs watching the others for their responses.

So they had known already. That was the only possibility because any wizard or witch raised in the wizarding world would have reacted with the proper horror towards this, no matter how slight. They both knew this info already, so Draco had to have something else besides this delightful morsel. Even as she wondered what he could have to say to top the bombshell he'd just dropped on them, she knew that she was only thinking about it to shield herself from thinking to closely on what the Dark Lord wanted to unleash.

When she was younger and before her brother had started holding ritual sacrifices of gnomes and other small useless creatures on the dining room table (or before he started doing it so often that he got caught) her father would tell them about the old ways and show them some of the tomes that had survived the time. One book in particular always came to mind. It was bound in human skin and had an anti-dripping enchantment on it so the blood that oozed from the cover wouldn't get on anything. The magic enclosed in it was so dark that the spells were said to control the wizard instead of the other way around. It was never let out of the chamber the family kept it in because it corrupted anything it was left on too long. One glimpse of it had been enough for it to embed forever in her mind as something taboo. And this book was only a small representation of the terror and savagery that had existed during the Old Ways. The entire world had existed in a state of constant warfare and chaos.

Her own family chronicles of the time mentioned human sacrifice and torture as if it were an everyday occurrence; it had taken her a little more research before she realized that it was. Even cannibalism was touched upon; the hearts of young muggle boys were considered a delicacy by her family. The few spells she had found had made the Killing curse seem as Light as Lumos. The magic of the Old Ways was far deeper, darker, and more potent than anything used now, except the ancient earth magic. The closest thing to the power of Old Ways magic was whatever had shielded Harry Potter from the Killing Curse. That and specialized magic and techniques that only the strongest and most skilled could do- legilsmancy, occlumency, animagi, parsletongue, metamorphi, and wandless magic to name a few.

If this was true then they had a problem on their hands.

"Would you swear the truth of this on your mother's soul?" Blaise demanded.

Draco didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"I can and have confirmed this with my own sources," Pansy piped up. "The Dark Lord will get rid of Potter and the Ministry and set himself up like a Lord of old."

"Exactly how widely is this known?" Millicent asked.

"Just the Dark Lord's inner circle and us." Draco indicated them all with his hand. "However, that is just the beginning. The spell to break the great working requires a specialized human sacrifice."

"Young purebloods." Daphne deadpanned. "At least twenty."

"What is the likelihood that the Death Eaters will follow thru on this?" Blaise drawled. "While they might not be the smartest bunch, they aren't suicidal and they want to preserve their bloodline, not destroy it."

"The inner circle was reluctant at first, but the Dark Lord can be very… convincing when he needs to be. He was quick to point out that longevity and fertility will undoubtedly increase after they break the Ward, then they can simply make new heirs." Draco grinned and Millicent felt chills go down her spine. "They are already taking steps to secure the materials necessary to complete the spell. Snape is working on the potions aspect of it as we speak."

"I'm supposed to be recruiting our classmates." Pansy added, examining her manicure. "They're planning on getting our generation as fanatical as Draco's aunt Bella."

A shudder went through Draco at the mention of his aunt's name. "Yes, aunt Bellatrix is the perfect example."

"Of course, if the campaigning and recruitment doesn't work, I'm sure they'll just kidnap the rest." Daphne shrugged. "Since my name is on the list of those fated to," here she made quotations marks with her hands, "'die in honor for this special cause,' I'm here to ensure that I stay alive and out of sight."

"What list?" Millicent leaned forward in her chair. They hadn't mentioned anything about a list.

Pansy gave a strangled laugh. "The sacrifices have to hold a certain amount of power so a list was made of all those who fit the requirements."

"Everyone in this room is on this list, at least three of us put their by our own kin." Draco sat back and crossed his legs, waiting for his comment to sink in. "Now, you might be starting to see exactly why you were invited here."

"While the information about the Dark Lord's ambitions is troubling," Blaise began. "I fail to see why I would be on any list. My father's parentage is… unfortunate."

"This ritual follows the old classification system. According to that, any one with two magical parents is pure-blood." Pansy supplied.

Both Draco and Blaise gave her considering looks. "She's right." Draco confirmed.

"Well, self preservation has always been a compelling motivator." The black-haired wizard nodded to Draco. "It would seem that you have made this worth my time."

"I aim to please."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "What you are proposing we do about this? We can't alert anyone we know, but we can't just take this sitting down and we have to act quickly."

"She's right, the decrees pouring out of the Ministry now will send wizards running to the Dark Lord, and he'll have his pick of substitutes." Millicent added. "In light of the Ministry's stupidity, people will be more prone to accept his plan."

Draco's eyes gleamed. "That's why we have to get rid of the Ministry first."

"That's your plan?" Daphne sounded both disappointed and sarcastic.

"The overall gist of it. We need to take things in stages; first the Ministry, then Voldemort." At the mention of the Dark Lord's name, everyone flinched, even Draco. "Fear of the name is fear of the person and it is necessary to overcome this fear."

"This room is warded enough for you to say that without impunity?" Blaise regarded Draco calmly.

"If it wasn't, none of you would be here, would you?"

Pansy giggled and the sound was strident to Millicent's ears. "No," she said to cut the noise off.

"Well Malfoy," Blaise began. "How does one go about deposing a centuries old government organization?"

The blonde wizard smiled. "You start a revolution."

"Already covered." Pansy chimed.

"Then while they're busy focusing on that, you destroy them from the inside out."

"You have informants on the inside?" Daphne raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Some," he gave her a smile that was more teeth than anything. "That's where you and all of your wonderful contacts come in."

"Thanks." She snorted. The Greengrass family was old and elite and well-situated in that it was considered one of the neutral pure-blood families. Daphne had connections in places that the rest of them couldn't set foot in.

"And the rest of us?" Millicent's mind had been racing through possibilities since they started down this path. This task wasn't as monumental as it seemed. If Scrigemour continued with his statutes and decrees, it would be easier than getting Dumbledore as a famous wizard card from a chocolate frog.

"Getting to that." Draco's old arrogance was returning as their conversation progressed. "So we are all agreed then?"

Silence descended upon the room once more as the Slytherins went through their options. They all nodded their assent and kept their silence after the crucial oaths were said that would allow them to give each other a modicum of trust. As Millicent settled back into her seat, anticipation welled up inside her. Finally, she had taken a stand and was ready to act upon it.

" We should call him Tommy." She mused out loud. Daphne blinked, then smirked as she understood.

" _Tommy_," Pansy purred.

It took Blaise a little bit longer to respond as he searched for the reference, but he found it. " Tom Riddle. Tommy. I like it."

Millicent blinked. So Blaise knew the truth about the Dark Lord.

Draco just smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

There was no light in the room although it was high noon. Hermione didn't care as she sat cross-legged on the bed that was to be hers for the duration of her stay. Her current book was spread out on her lap with many pages of notes around her and a stack of books at her side. Her eyes had long ago adjusted to working in dark conditions and it was necessary to keep them so. She might have a comfortable workstation now but that wouldn't be the case in a few days time.

This was her second day at the Burrow and it was already grating on her nerves. Five weeks into the summer and she had been finally retrieved from home in order to attend the nuptials of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Harry had been in the Burrow for a week and a half already because as it was covered by Aurors and Order members alike it was deemed safe enough for the Boy-Who-Lived. That was the official version any way. Hermione knew that keeping the wizarding world's savior mentally stable had been the key driving point. Dumbledore's death happening before Harry was even truly over Sirius's had caused many to question how his sanity would hold up so they had allowed him early release from the Dursleys for the first time in his Hogwarts history to allow him some sort of support system. Hermione was more than a little upset that _she_ hadn't been brought early to be a part of the system seeing as she was only one his _best friends_. Even worse, letters had been taboo between them for 'security reasons' and the only way she had been able to contact her friend had been through a charm she created that would allow them to write on parchment to each other and communicate instantly. She had gotten the idea from the muggle email that her mother had shown her on the computer the previous summer and had used the Protean charm as a basis for the new spell. Luckily, in a stroke of foresight she had mailed a piece to both Harry and Ron right after the end of school and before the mail ban started.

Still, being purposely separated from her friends had done nothing but increase her resolve that finally ignoring the rules and taking this situation into her own hands was the best decision she could have made. She had made what she felt was excellent progress in preparing for the War and part of that wouldn't have been possible if she had stuck to the rules that the Order wanted her to follow. As the Ministry was still breathing down Harry's back and being almost as much as a nuisance as Voldemort, her first step after getting back from the training at Hogwarts had been to discover and/or develop some sort of spell that would block anyone from detecting any magic she was doing. She'd had to go into some of the Gray area magic books to find base charms and potions that she expanded into her own new spells. It had taken her one week with no sleep to do this; such was her determination and need.

Her parents had thought she was crazy as what time she didn't spend locked in her room, she was at the 'library' or buying various muggle methods of disguise. The first time she'd come back home with about twenty bottles of different dyes and hair products, her mother had sat her down and wasted both their time with a twenty minute lecture about loving herself and not changing for any boy. Hermione had laughed in her face and informed her that she and Ron had agreed to put things on hold for various reasons. Her mother had been taken aback but Hermione had simply gone back upstairs to her room. Wizarding disguise spells had ways of being detected unless you were a Metamorphmagus, so she was making a collection of disguises that she, Harry, and Ron could use on their search for the Horocruxes.

They had already found and destroyed Slytherin's locket. Once Harry had mentioned it was a locket and the letter with the initials R.A.B, it wasn't too hard to connect it with Sirius's wayward brother Regulus and the locket at the Black house that couldn't be opened. They made their move after Hermione was finished with her cloaking spell and both boys had mastered it. It had been a tricky piece of spellwork to disappear under everyone's nose without anyone noticing, but surprisingly enough, it was Ron who had suggested a doppelganger spell (a darker Grey spell he'd heard about from one of his brothers) that allowed them to be elsewhere with a copy of them in the place where they were supposed to be. Hermione refined it until their doppelgangers could fool their closest friends and they had set off. Three days later, they had found and destroyed the Horocrux on Hogwarts proper.

Though Dumbledore was dead, the ancient wards and magic protecting Hogwarts held, making it still one of the safest places on earth. The problem only came in someone from the inside letting unscrupulous characters in, but as everyone was gone, including the teachers, and it re-opening was still being reevaluated it was the perfect base for them. The entire Hogwarts library was at their disposal and they made use of it, researching all the founders and descendents to get a lead on the next Horocrux, and increasing their own knowledge. Harry, after Hermione had informed him that both she and Ron had the aptitude to become Legilimens and Occlumens and would he please get a move on so they could do something about it, had finally mastered Occlumensy and Legilimency enough to help train them, and together they worked to control their minds. What time not spent researching or going through each others heads, was spent drilling in offensive and defensive spells both wandless and silent, and in muggle hand-to hand combat and martial arts. Harry had gotten the idea from a movie his cousin was watching and had come prepared with different styles of martial arts that Hermione, Ron, and he could pick and choose from. Non-stop drilling and help from a surprising source had made them all proficient enough that they would be able to stay alive long enough to get their wands if they were parted from them.

They spent a week together linearly at Hogwarts, leaving for their school almost as soon as they arrived to their various houses. In reality they spent almost two months. Hermione had managed to get a time-turner (the same one from her third year and the only one that had survived fifth year's ministry time turner massacre as Dumbledore had never returned it) from a harried McGonagall, who hadn't asked questions and didn't even remember handing it to her (Hermione felt slightly bad about that but Harry had justified it by pointing it out that now their professor couldn't be implicated in anything), and they had used it judiciously.

They left Hogwarts determined with their friendship tighter than ever. Hermione had given them both a disguise package just in case, and instructions on what they could do from their different locations. She had worked like a madwoman since then, making undercover forays into Knockturn Alley or Hogwarts (thank Merlin for Apparition) whenever she needed a book for research and developing the rest herself. Her average was three hours of sleep a night and it was always choppy as she tended to wake up at odd moments with new leads or old answers.

Besides the Horocrux research, occlumency and legilimency training, and frantic drill work with or without her wand, Hermione was taking a leaf out of the Weasley twins' book. She'd succeeded in making wizarding versions of both grenades and proximity mines. Memorizing new spells and re-assessing certain Dark spells was another pastime. The Ministry had a habit of being overcautious with their descriptions so Hermione had discovered that some Gray and Dark spells and potions didn't live up to their labels. It was more relative than that. Some of the potions and a few charms had shortened her work considerably.

Now, however, she was dedicating all her time to Horocrux research and finding the next one, Hufflepuff's cup. As soon as the wedding was over she, Harry, and Ron were taking off. If the school re-opened, they might make a pit stop there, but everything hinged on their finding the horocruxes and not letting Voldemort know that they were doing so. The destruction of the locket had left them drained of magic for twelve hours after the fact; Hermione from holding the circle wards that kept the magical backlash from being detected by anyone, and Ron and Harry from the terminating. Hermione had refined the process since then so that it would have less magical drain on them and so that it could be done quicker. Hermione was no fool; none of the other horocruxes would be so simple to get rid off.

The book she was reading was in Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics and it was one of the many foreign wizarding books she'd had to turn to better understand horocruxes. All countries had quietly banned anything to do with the soul splitting technique, but England, in the Ministry's typical overzealousness, had almost completely gotten rid of all information besides the name. Hermione had learned several new languages in self-defense and had perfected translation spells in order to pass it on for the boys to read. The most frustrating thing, worse than the lack of info, was that while Hermione could probably make a horocrux herself, she was still only guessing at the steps Voldemort took to make the multiple ones.

She turned to the next page. The entire section was on methods of preserving the soul for passage to Osiris and Anubis. Though the book was written for the ancient priest sect of Egypt, it contained several theories that she felt Riddle must have used to successfully make horocruxes. The sheer genius behind the machinations made her appreciate Snape's class and her experience in the past year's potions more than ever. The Half Blood Prince's potion's book had shown her faults in a very unpleasant light. While she excelled in schoolwork in controlled environments, 'books and cleverness' could only take her so far. In putting her obsession with good grades on the backburner, she had started making those improvements and now she was tracing one of wizarding's greatest minds down one of its darkest roads. The thought both thrilled and scared her.

She tapped her quill against her mouth, and then rolled off the bed simultaneously casting a shield charm and a Stupefy at the door. Wand in hand, she faced her aggressor.

Ginny Weasley crumpled to the ground, her cheerful expression going slack as she fell and hit her head on the partially opened door. Hermione wandlessly ended the spell and Ginny's first word was "Good." She stopped after this and blinked.

"Did you just Stupefy me?" Ginny asked slowly. The entire episode had happened in a few seconds and her brain was still catching up. She stood up gingerly and the light coming in from the hallway making her trademark Weasley hair look like fire.

That reaction time could get her killed, Hermione's brain supplied.

Ignoring this thought, the brunette witch closed her book and began putting up her papers; with a wave of her hand all her books shrunk and her notes changed into to-do lists, essays on the pros and cons of different careers, and possible assignments for homework. She put all of this into her bag, then locked the bag with five different charms, two found only in certain parts of Africa and three she'd created, all of them keyed to open to only her or the boys' magical signature. Once this was done, she turned back to Ginny. The girl might be the future Mrs. Potter, but she was not in the loop of people Harry put his ultimate trust in, a loop that just contained Harry himself, Ron and Hermione.

"You startled me." Hermione answered. During the time she and the boys had spent researching at Hogwarts, they had made it an ongoing game of sneaking up and hexing the others as a fun way of preparing themselves. They even kept score to see who was in the lead at any given time. Hermione was hexed so many times researching that automatically striking out at any distractions had become her habit. She'd gotten so fast at casting jinxes and counter that she could hex and finite her parents without them even realizing it.

Ginny glowered at her. "Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? I can't even walk into my own room without getting stunned!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Were you ever able to do that?" Ginny had six older brothers.

The redhead witch had the grace to blush. "Okay, so maybe I haven't always been able to do that, I just didn't expect attacks from my only female ally. And you didn't say a word." She grinned at that. "I can't wait until I master silent magic."

"It takes hard work, but it's worth it." Hermione tried to look interested in the conversation and not like she wanted Ginny to get out so she could continue her research. Slowly but surely, Hermione was getting better at this whole 'dissemblance' thing.

Of course, her best (read: only) female friend saw right through it. "Hermione, I better than most understand that it's important for you to work, but you need a break before you collapse. Come outside and socialize. Get fresh air."

Fresh air. Hermione cocked her head to the side, trying to remember the last time she'd granted herself that luxury. She'd just apparated over here from her house and she had only left the room for bathroom breaks and dinner. And she'd finished gathering the necessary materials they'd need on the road weeks ago which meant that she hadn't left the house since then. So, it had been at least two weeks since she'd had 'fresh air', not that it truly mattered to her as she would be getting plenty of it on the Horocrux search.

Ginny had planted herself in her Weasley mom stance that meant she wouldn't budge until she'd gotten her way. A glance at the mirror informed Hermione why.

Bushy didn't even begin to describe the state of her hair as it seemed to fly in all directions at once, as thick and tangled as ever. Her skin was pale and pallid and the circles around her eyes were so dark they looked like eyeliner. Her clothing was at least clean, though the jean shorts and t-shirt she was wearing were wrinkled enough that even three months ago she might have thrown a fit had she seen them. Now she didn't care.

"Ron and Harry wanted to talk to you to." Ginny added, seeing Hermione weaken.

Hermione nodded. They needed to come up with the final plan of departure from the Burrow as well as catch up on everything they'd done in the few weeks they'd been separated. She stood up and ran a hand through her hair.

"Ow."

Well, tried to run a hand through her hair. It was in desperate need of a comb, brush, and an entire bottle of detangler. After witnessing another of Hermione's fruitless attempts to comb her hair straight, Ginny took pity on her and spelled it into a bun.

"Come on, Mum will be happy to see you too." Ginny led the way downstairs, past the numerous wedding preparations, to outside where several chairs were set up for the wedding and Harry, Ron, and Gabrielle Delacour were sitting and talking.

As they walked towards them, Gabrielle said something that made Ron throw his head back with laughter. Ginny patted Hermione on the shoulder as if to comfort her, but Hermione felt no twitch of jealousy, no sudden desire to set rabid canaries on anyone. Since she and Ron had agreed to put things on hold, she had at least one aspect of her life she could count on.

Harry glanced up and saw them first. His shoulders tensed up as he glanced at Ron obviously enjoying the French witch's company and Hermione with Ginny. His eyes met Hermione's, gauging her feelings in a few seconds and his entire body relaxed at what he read in them.

Hermione smiled, one of her first since she'd arrived. Harry depended on them too much for them to screw up with everyone's concentration by entering a volatile relationship. And no matter what anyone said, any relationship involving the two of them without a mediator would be volatile.

"Hey guys," Ron charmed two chairs to join their little group. Hermione took one that set her between her boys while Ginny sat in between Gabrielle and Ron. "We were just talking about the latest law the Ministry passed. Apparently it's even being decried in other countries."

"It's about time the rest of the world realizes that situation here is not getting better anytime soon." Hermione said matter of fact.

"Yes," Gabrielle's English had improved immensely since the last time she'd seen her, though her accent was thick as ever. "En France, the government ees debating on intervention or embargo and some of my family and friends have expressed dismay at Fleur's decision to marry a British wizard."

"But France is not the only wizarding population eyeing us." Ron put in. "In fact, we're practically allies. Its other countries like America and Spain who are trying to get the support to intervene and impose martial law."

For some reason this comment struck Hermione as funny although her laugh was far from happy. "By the time they're done debating we will already have martial law under Voldemort. And then it will be open warfare." The graveness of her tone increased with each word she spoke and the uncomfortable silence following her last word signaled the death knell of the conversation.

Hermione could point out several different examples of situations exactly like theirs in both Muggle and wizarding history whether it be the rise of a dark lord or a gun-happy dictator. The other countries or even the government and people of the country victimized debated and talked and weighed pros and cons and thousands of people died. History was riddled with instances of this yet each time people had the nerve to act like it was something new. If people actually read and researched instead of blindly following the idiot who talked the loudest, things would actually change.

The bustle continued around them, people complaining about the placement of chairs, the flowers, the food, and the guest seating arrangements. Hermione ignored this, her mind focusing on the fact that there was an ever present clock ticking above their heads and that every second wasted was one that they would regret in the end. Harry met her eyes and she knew that their thoughts mirrored each other: they had a death to plan and they needed to make use of the time presented to them which meant that the two younger witches sitting with them needed to leave. They both looked at Ron and he sighed.

"So, not that it hasn't been fun, but-"

Ginny abruptly stood, her face and ears red. "You just need to ask us to leave. We're not blind."

The rest of the group stared at her; Gabrielle and Ron with something close to surprise, Harry with regret, and Hermione with the same sense of apathy that had been growing in her since she realized that she had to help turn one of her best friend into a killer with the whole world standing in the balance. The apathy helped her view things dispassionately, be removed. And removed, she saw the hurt that the redhead witch couldn't conceal with anger or humor, hurt that she was being left behind again. But Hermione couldn't afford to coddle her which meant that this situation was just one more thing which would go unresolved until after Voldemort was dead, or AV as Ron had finally nicknamed it (the suggestions Harry's Ultimate Conquest and Harry's Win were vetoed). The things being clumped in this category were just piling up. Hermione wondered, not for the first time, if the wizarding world had therapists.

The youngest Weasley stormed back to the house.

"What's up with her?" Ron voiced after Gabrielle hurried after Ginny to placate her.

"She wants to come." Harry crossed his arms.

"That's out of the question." Ron stated, much more placidly than normal. "It would be too dangerous and she's too young."

Hermione laughed and the boys flinched. "She's only a year younger Ronald, and its just as much danger to us."

Ron frowned. "You're not actually on her side ar-"

"Of course not." The brunette witch waved this concept away. "It was the principle. She's not ready."

"Exactly what I said."

The corner of Harry's mouth quirked up. "That depends on the translator."

"A modern English one would not have found our reasons synonymous." Hermione snorted.

They all grinned at each other and they were back in first year when their biggest concern had been Snape's potions' class and they had been secure in the knowledge that good trumped bad and love conquered evil and happily ever afters were the rule, not the exception. Then reality dropped back in; Harry's eyes aged ten years, Ron's position hunched over, and all traces of emotions left Hermione's face.

"Do we want to do this here or somewhere more private?" She asked, taking out her wand in the same breadth.

"Here." Harry answered.

"That way no one will suspect we're up to anything because they can see us." Ron elaborated. "And I don't feel like moving."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine." She began the set of spells that she had researched and arranged to go in the perfect order to prevent any form of eavesdropping or any detection of the spells themselves. It was both to get into the habit of doing and because she wouldn't put it past the Order have at least one listening spell on one of them as that's what she would have done in their position. Once that was finished, she settled back in her chair and looked at the other two expectantly. "Let's begin."

"Something needs to be done about the Ministry soon or half the wizarding world is going to see Voldemort as the lesser evil and then we'll really have a problem." Ron said, grimacing mildly at the dark wizard's name. "With every statute and law purposely aimed at curtailing pureblood rights, they're just pushing Voldemort's main demographic into his arms. Even Mum and Dad are upset about these things and we're firmly entrenched on among his enemies."

"It's not just the pureblood's either. Wizarding Protection Statutes numbers 12 thru 16 are about half-bloods." Harry added. "It's like Scrimgeour is purposely being prejudiced against the rest of the wizarding population to make up for Muggle-born and Muggle discrimination."

Hermione frowned. The Daily Prophets she had been getting had failed to mention this, not that she was too surprised. She was disappointed that the Quibbler hadn't started printing the real news so that wizards would have something to read other than useless propaganda. "Last time we talked you said they had imposed a curfew and banned a few of the more outdated pureblood customs, ones that were used mainly by elitists."

"Yeah," Ron shrugged. "But since we didn't want to disturb your research, and since we couldn't owl you, we didn't tell you."

"Oh, so Scrimgeour following Hitler's path isn't important enough to tell me." Hermione barely restrained herself from snapping at Ron's 'oops-sorry' expression. Why did they think that she had given them the e-parchment?

"It's nothing we didn't already predict and plan for." Harry cut in before his two friends started sniping at each other. "Two days after we talked to you, that Tuesday, Scrimgeour passed more Wizard Protection Statutes and the Racial Tolerance Laws."

Ron took over and Hermione was reminded of watching Fred and George. "In the beginning they were just getting rid of outdated things and equaling rights, but last week they interfered with the heir process and dowries." His words dripped with disgust.

"Dowries?" Hermione repeated, her natural feminist tendencies breaking free of her priority oriented mind. "Wizards still do that?" No matter how many years she'd spent in this world, there was always something new to discover. "Getting rid of them doesn't seem like a bad idea. This isn't the eighteenth century."

"What?" Ron stared at her like she'd just announced she was having Voldemort's love child, his facing growing redder by the second. "How could you-"

"Ron, remember I thought the same." The boy-who-lived stooped over further, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. "Hermione, it's not the same as it is in the muggle world. It's like the physical manifestation of a will, proof that that you will carry on your family legacy, not just limited to girls. Every piece of history your family has is secured to a 2nd generation member of your family to be passed down. If there is no immediate family, the dowry will pass to the nearest blood relative. It's a way to ensure that family history is not forgotten because everyone will have something and the ministry won't be able to step in and repossess things. A main reason why the Malfoys have retained most of their Dark Magic items and books since under the dowry process they can't be seized without Malfoy's permission unless they go through a years long procedure to bypass it." Harry's tone grew bitter. "That's the excuse they gave to why they were abolishing it. Because of a couple families' Dark Arts collection. Taking dowries away is like someone burning everything your family has to remember its past by: photographs, antiques, diaries."

Their redhead friend had calmed down. "It's even worse than taking away the heir process."

She had heard about the heir process. Specialized family magic was passed through families thru the strongest member-usually the eldest male- in a method that allowed the rest of the family who shared blood ties to draw upon it. Once that member reached the age where he or she could no longer hold it, they passed it on to the person who was considered heir of the entire family. In rare cases where the magic was too much to hold or a family held two types of drastically different magic, two heirs would be chosen. It was the reason that some families were known for certain types of magic. It was also the reason that certain types and branches of magic had died out thru the ages because if the heir died without naming a successor and no one was strong enough to step forward and bind the wild magic, it was lost. Still, it was interesting to consider that Ron considered the loss of heritage worse than losing a part of his magic.

"And no one has rebelled yet." Hermione stated.

"The ministry hasn't been enforcing it. Dad says that they can't." Ron's hands clenched and she knew that he wanted to pace. "No one will do it. Some of the Aurors have already quit. People are trickling out of the ministry. If the Order didn't need him inside the ministry, Dad would be gone as well. Both he and Mum have been furious. He says that Scrimgeour won't listen to reason, yet every time he sees Dad he asks him about Harry."

"It's almost as if he thought the death of Dumbledore would automatically make me the Ministry's lapdog." Harry's sentence ended on a sneer, as it always seemed to do when he talked about his relationship with the Ministry.

"We've long known that Scrimgeour won't be much help, now we know exactly how much of a deterrent he'll be." Hermione pursed her lips. "Besides taking over the ministry ourselves, we can't do much on that front so we'll have to trust the Order to handle it."

"So basically we're ignoring it." Ron clarified. "The Order is useless. They aren't doing anything. We've been here the entire summer and they still don't trust us with basic information. Everything we've learned has been through the twins and spying."

That was as much as Hermione had expected when she'd arrived and none of the adults had updated her on anything. Despite the fact that they were all of age, the Order was treating them like first years. Yet it wouldn't change anything. The Trio had never had the permission or protection of others when they ended up on an adventure (aka fight for their lives); all they had was Harry's bravery, Ron's strategy, and Hermione's intellect. It had got them through six years of misadventures when most of their escapades were thrust upon them at the last minute. Since they'd had time to train and plan Hermione was much more confident. Not that she thought that they'd get out of this scot-free. Her aim was for their survival and Riddle's death.

"Think of it as practice." She said practically. "You boys can give me pointers."

"Everything always has to be about work with you." Harry joked without malice.

Hermione shrugged. "Someone in this group has to stay focused. Now how have preparations for leaving been on your end?"

Ron snorted. "Bloody easy that's what. The only thing they're serious about is us not owling anyone. We've been going off on our own so much that no one even comes to look for us as long as we check in every five to six hours."

"Five to six hours?" She gaped, ignoring Ron's language. "They let you go unsupervised for five to six hours? Surely one of the Order is trailing you?"

"At first maybe." Harry shared a look with Ron. "Then they backed up when they saw we weren't doing anything dangerous."

"We've decided that they think I've been alleviating Harry's depression and left us alone to keep Harry from spiraling too deep." Ron grinned.

Harry sighed. "I'm glad you find my mental instability so amusing."

"There is little else that is."

It was a true statement that sapped the enjoyment from the air. Hermione's next question killed what was left of it. "Did the Death Eaters actually have a Muggle massacre last Friday?"

"Yes. Fifty killed and the Order found out after the muggle police had started investigating. It was at a community swimming pool and a third of the dead were children under the age of thirteen." Harry's voice was tired, as if each murder was a personal insult to him. The aged look was back in his eyes and it was all Hermione could do to keep from getting up and hugging her best friend. She had become adept at reading his moods and any comforting right now would be seen as pity which would make things worse, so she would put that on the back burner until later. Priorities.

"We overheard Tonks complaining that if the death toll kept increasing like this and Muggles keep on being killed in public places with witnesses, we wizards won't be able to maintain our secrecy much longer." Ron continued. "Truthfully, these last attack patterns almost suggest that he wants to be discovered by muggles."

"Attacks?" Hermione frowned, hating the fact that she was this behind in information. If the Order members would come to their senses and initiate her and the boys this wouldn't be an issue. "As opposed to disappearances?"

"Attacks." Ron nodded. "Not only in broad daylight, but in places that leave witnesses in different areas so it's impossible for the Obliviators to reach all of them."

"Train stations and airports; football, cricket, and rugby matches." Harry counted them off on his fingers. "It's escalated since I came here but it was bad enough that the Dursleys were happy to be getting wizarding protection when I left. The muggle prime minister's explanation has been freak weather and no one believes it. I'm surprised that you don't know. It's been all over the news."

"Lightning that decapitates and maims on a clear sunny day?" Ron shook his head. "No one is that thick."

"My parents," she paused; it was odd to think that right now they did not consider themselves such and would not until she and her friends won the war. "They did mention that weird things were happening, but they said that they thought it was another terrorist group. I have to admit that I've been so focused on research that hippogriffs and blast-ended skrewts could have started a colony in my backyard and I wouldn't have even noticed."

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "And you know all the disappearances we were trying to figure out in the beginning of the summer? Well, their bodies have been turning up at famous landmarks both wizarding and muggle."

"They found the head of one of the Unspeakable divisions hanging from Big Ben. Three of the missing aurors were discovered staked in the middle of Diagon Alley. The Muggle Studies professor was found in Hogsmeade…" He swallowed. "Her skin was hanging under the Three Broomsticks sign with the message 'Death to Blood Traitors' on it in blood and the body was in the street. Vo-Voldemort," Ron was still not as comfortable with saying the name as his friends were, "wants all the attention to be on him."

Hermione nodded and successfully fought back the nausea she felt from picturing the professor's death. She had to think logically. Mysterious vanishings followed by the discovery of a ravaged corpse, it was basic scare tactics. Riddle was building on the wizarding world's fear, stoking the flames with each slaughter and torture. The strategy was no less brilliant for its simplicity, she had hand the megalomaniac that. "This is allowing him to do to key things: increase fear of him and garner interest in recruiting."

"Recruiting?" Ron gave Harry his trademark Hermione's-gone-daft-_again_ look. "I'm sure there's some bloke out there reading about V-Voldemort's torture and mass murder, going 'that seems like fun, I wonder where I can join up?'"

"Sarcasm does not become you Ronald." She knew that this thing was riding all of them hard, but everything would go smoother without his needless remarks.

The boy-who-lived was apparently thinking on the same lines as she. "Ron, those sorts of people who Voldemort wants. But this is mostly aimed at getting people to join him to avoid becoming another casualty. Plus people who will join up to get back at the ministry for passing these stupid laws. Frankly, Voldemort doesn't need to do any campaigning for new members; the Scrimgeour and his crew are doing it for him."

A thought occurred to Hermione. "The order has checked to make sure it's actually Scrimgeour and not Polyjuice, right?" Normally the question wouldn't have left her lips as until a few months ago she had viewed the Order as an intelligent, capable organization; now, in the view of someone who has seen that they left two potentially unstable young men (they would always be her boys) notorious for going off half-cocked into danger alone after the death of an important figure in their lives, she felt the question was necessary.

They all exchanged glances. "Yes, he's been here so. I mean..." Harry trailed off.

"Moody's seen him and hasn't done anything so he must be the original." Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ron's deductive reasoning.

"We still can't discount the possibility of some form of Imperious or that one of the other Ministry officials is under Imperious, but for now let's get back to the Horocrux search." She took a deep breath. "I've pinpointed the most likely spots to find the cup. I won't tell you now for liability reasons, just that you'll need clothes for both hot and cold climates."

Harry sat up again, the most animated he'd been bodily their entire conversation. Hermione didn't know whether to be pleased that he was showing life or worried that he was getting too focused. Indifference won out, for the time being. She needed to evaluate how much good Harry would do for the wizarding world if he broke after he saved them (and how much good she would be if he did).

Ron interrupted her thoughts. "How many likely spots?"

She hesitated, struggling with issue of accountability before deciding that she could grant them this. "Three and Voldemort has been to each place."

"Any new ideas on destroying them?" Harry peered at her intently.

"Yes, from my research on the ritual we did and from analyzing the results, I've come to the conclusion that it was the destruction of the object that destroyed the Horocrux, so we didn't have to remove and destroy the piece of soul." She pursed her lips. She should have realized it sooner from the way Harry had destroyed the Riddle's diary second year, but that was what happened when you tried to do too many things at once.

"What?" Ron kicked the side of Harry's chair. "So we went through that bloody ritual for over twelve hours and all we needed to do was melt the locket?"

"Ron," she rolled her eyes. "It won't be as easy as all that. Voldemort was no fool so it won't be that easy to destroy the cup. We'll definitely have to use magical means."

"Means that won't include you almost dying from magic loss. Sounds like a plus in my book."

So she had been a little worse for the wear after the ritual, it wasn't anything to complain about. Each time she drained herself and survived she pushed and expanded the boundaries and quantity of her magic. That was what mattered.

"Moving on, we need to be prepared to leave the moment the wedding is over. The doppelganger spell will come into effect immediately and we won't have to worry about people looking for us." The spell, as they all knew, was actually an intricate network of charms held together by runes, potions, and arithmancy thought up by Hermione and powered by all of them. There would be a constant drain, but it would ultimately increase their magic reservoirs. It also cut back on the number of lies they would have to tell when they left.

"And we aren't telling anyone." Ron motioned to the Burrow, no doubt referring to one of the expansive Weasley brood. "Not our location, but just letting them know that we are gone."

Hermione sighed. "We've already gone through this. The less people know, the better our chance for success."

"But we might need something; there might be an emergency!"

"They might get questioned or worse to find out our whereabouts." She ignored the way Harry stiffened; they had to deal in truths and the time for babying Harry Potter had long passed. "They can't release information that they don't have."

A beat of silence then, "you didn't tell your parents?"

She smiled, aware that it was no more than a baring of teeth. "My parents, having no idea that they ever had a child are, even as we speak, picking out a new house somewhere in Australia where they are going to be living under a new name." And, after all the potions that she'd given them, they wouldn't even register as related to her on any of the spells used to indicate relation. It would be a nightmare for her to try to locate them after this was over.

Her expression didn't alter as Ron deflated, his eyes searching hers disbelieving, and Harry stared shocked. It didn't hurt anymore; tears had streaked down her face when she obliviated them. That action had affected her in places Dumbledore's death hadn't touched and the last of an innocence that she had already considered gone had departed with her parents on their plane to Australia. But there was no time to mourn and no reason to when her rational side had resumed control and pointed out that Harry's parents were dead and that Ron's were going to be taking an active role in the war.

A war that had begun on sacrifices and one that would be continued with sacrifices.

This reflected in her eyes. Ron glanced away

"So it's settled." Harry said with finality, his piercing green eyes never leaving hers. "In two days we officially begin our quest."

* * *

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, FF wasn't letting me upload chapters. I hope everybody likes this so far. Please leave me a review to let me know what you all think. ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm back! Again. It's been a long time, but I finally have some more for you all.

Disclaimer: I don't in any shape, form, or fashion own Harry Potter.

* * *

Ten minutes into the Ministry Ball and Daphne was unobtrusively pinching her hands in the hope that the pain would prevent her from ruining all their carefully plotted schemes by Avada-ing Scrimgeour on the dance floor or by joining Tommy, which ever option guaranteed that she'd never have to do this again.

On the outside, the ball wasn't so bad. It was a charity dance for the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's that had already garnered over three million galleons in for the cause. There'd been an impassioned speaker who'd wooed the crowd over with two anecdotes of loving but tragic patients that had loosened purse strings as well as former patients who'd told them all how much a little more money would have aided their cases and others like them. The former patients were a little too much for her tastes but they had kept the money flowing. If she hadn't known better, she would have praised this as one of the ministry's smartest moves in preparing for the war.

But she did know better. She knew that all the guests in the room were at least half bloods with upper crust purebloods in the majority. And they might be smiling as they talked and mingled and donated, but the smiles did not hide the shadows in their eyes. The laws that the ministry were passing were destroying centuries of pureblood custom and tradition, the very foundations that many had built their senses of self on.

These people were furious and this was Scrimgeour's attempt at alleviating some of that anger. The decorations in the room could have come straight out of a painting of an 18th century pureblood gala, hundreds of glowing crystals hovering in the air providing light, streams of water did an intricate dance around the crystals after flowing from upside down water fountains, and the tapestries on the walls bore crests from all of the Ancient and Noble bloodlines, some that she didn't even recognize. The food was only the best pureblood cuisine and trays floated from group to group. All the speakers were purebloods from well-known families. No expense had been spared to ensure that there was nothing muggle or common about anything here.

It wasn't working though. The anger wasn't dissipating any and while no conversation outright criticized the Ministry, they all made it clear that they were not happy with them. And the money was being donated because these people wanted to make sure that the hospital was well stocked if any of them ended up there. Again, no one said it outright because the Ministry assured them all of their safety but this group saw their government's assurances the same way she did, as trash.

In retrospect, she knew she should have insisted that Pansy do this because the blonde girl actually enjoyed this sort of event and the manipulations that came with it, but then Pansy had pulled water works and a Large Tantrum. Daphne had agreed to do it to keep Blaise from stopping the tantrum himself (which would have made their so-called alliance a bust before it even started).

She sighed. Pansy was good at manipulation but the long term application of it wasn't her strong point. Case in point: Pansy's courtship of one Draco Malfoy. Now thinking about that failing (failed no matter what her blonde friend insisted) endeavor brought a grin to her face.

"Aah, Miss Greengrass," an older brown-haired wizard sidled up to her. She toned down the grin to a coy smile as she remembered whether or not she was supposed to know his name. "It's always wonderful to see youth taking an early interest in healthcare."

A search of her memory database turned up nothing on the wizard so she placed him as one of the many wizards here who recognized her for her father's money, pureblood status, and/or reputation for spoiling her blind (which was true, although if her father knew that he was financing her black market purchases he'd blow a gasket). Since he didn't register with her at all (and since Daphne had long since made it her business to know everybody who was worth using), that placed him as person with no rank, status, or any ability to help her advance her plans. In other words, he was useless.

It was easy to project debutante-like delight, and flutter her eyelashes. "Thank you." She tilted her head slightly; he was taller and the tilt exaggerated it, making it seem like she was looking up to him. "I've always believed that it was important to ensure the best possible service and if lending my time will help it along, I've no issue."

St. Mungo's was England's only wizarding hospital, her father would have donated regardless of whether she needed to be here or not.

He preened, standing straighter, putting his nose in the air. It was exactly the effect she was aiming for. "I don't think I've-"

Daphne suddenly glanced at a point to the side of him, her gaze so intent that he automatically cut off. Inwardly, she smirked. Outwardly, she met his eyes directly, her face apologetic. "It was nice to make your acquaintance, but I promised a colleague of yours that I'd talk to him the next time I saw him." She motioned to where a group of higher ranked ministry officials were chatting with the members of the pureblood elite who were not known Death Eaters.

Once again, he puffed up, his attempt at establishing a connection between them forgotten in the face of her intimating that he was on the same level as people who probably wouldn't remember his name if he saved their lives. It served the purpose of drawing his attention away from her as well.

"If you must," he waved a hand imperiously.

She looked down to hide her eye roll then flashed him a rueful smile and walked towards the aforementioned group. The person she had come to this entire party for had finally gotten close enough and provided her with an opportunity 'meet' them without it looking contrived.

Daphne didn't like to force things; it disrupted the natural flow and had the possibility of looking fake. If it looked fake, people questioned it and had a habit of scrutinizing everything else you do to catch any other slip ups.

Daphne didn't like people questioning what she did; pawns weren't supposed to think for themselves, when they did it was harder to manipulate them which then made force necessary which led to suspicion which continued the vicious cycle. That was the reason she operated as she did, everything went smoothly and naturally and no one was given any reason to suspect that the motives they're operating under are not their own.

Because, when you really got down to it, it was basically about persuading someone to do something with the idea that they'd thought it up on their own.

A few heads turned as she walked towards her prey, gliding the way only pureblood females could, a gait that comes from years of a hard cane poking you in the back while the tutor screamed 'straighter! Hold your back straighter, with your head up! Float!'. If anyone noticed that her 'float' was more reminiscent of a lioness stalking an antelope than a fairy, they didn't comment, instead they watched as she greeted the under-secretary Percival Weasley.

Daphne never particularly had any real opinion on the wizard in school as he was outside her circle of influence and had never been in a position to help her achieve a goal. Circumstances were different now. Talking to him would make it that more plausible and unremarkable when she focused on her actual target, Dolores Umbridge.

Weasley played right into her hands, blinking at her once before almost bowling himself over to respond to her polite greeting in kind once recognition set in. Daphne might not have that much fame in school outside her own house, but in wizarding society her last name held weight. Everyone knew that the Greengrasses could trace their roots to the beginning of magic and that not a single squib had ever been born to any of the bloodline's many branches.

"Ms. Greengrass, how wonderful to see you again!" He gushed.

She repressed a sneer at his over eagerness and offered her hand. "It's nice to see you as well, I know we weren't close in school, but it's always good to see a former schoolmate do well."

"Yes, yes, I'm a chief undersecretary now." He pumped her hand too eagerly and held on too long. All his ambitions aside, Percy Weasley would have done horribly in Slytherin. He was too obvious and lacked the necessary cunning that went with his ambition.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed distaste flicker through the eyes of his companions at his horrible manners. The one next to him was a slightly stooped elderly gentleman with shoulder length white hair and a well groomed beard that hung to his chest. His robes were midnight blue in a cut that was fashionable in the early 1900s but made him look esteemed, not dated. Despite his wrinkles, his eyes were sharp and clear. Osgar Pritchard had been on the Wizengamot, held a seat on the Wizard's council and had rivaled her late headmaster for the position of Supreme Mugwump. He was the great uncle of one of her younger housemates and a wizard whose actions often swayed pureblood opinion. She had no doubt that his reasons for suffering the company of Weasley were similar to hers.

The man next to him was also likely here for the same reason. He was decades younger than Osgar, closer to her parent's age, with long chocolate hair held back in a low tail. Tailor made coal black robes accentuated his tall well-built figure. An easy smile rested on his thin lips which made him seem approachable, a smile she knew for its falseness since she'd seen the same on his son's face many a time. Adair Pucey held positions in the same places that Pritchard did and he was a favorite to follow in the old man's footsteps though his views on pureblood supremacy were more extreme. It was a testament to his skills that he'd never been implicated as a Death Eater even in the time after the first war when they were accusing anyone who'd ever sneered at a muggleborn in public.

"Congratulations." She noted everything about Weasley's companions in a few seconds then offered him another smile. "To whom?"

"Secretary Dolores Umbridge, she was the former Prime Minister Fudge's Secretary. I'm sure you remember her from school?" Percy was quite forthcoming with information. The foresaid female was paying close attention to the conversation as were Pritchard and Pucey.

"Of course, she was the best Defense Against the Darks Arts teacher we've had." Daphne replied to Weasley though she made sure to very obviously smile at the two men next to him, hoping to get him to introduce her since she'd hadn't formally met either man.

He nodded and ignored her hint. "I didn't have the pleasure of having her as a professor, but everyone I've talked to shares your opinion."

Clearly everyone he'd talked to had lied through their teeth like she was. "It was nice to have some stability in that class."

Osgar cleared his throat.

"Yes, the previous professors weren't reliable at all, well, I remember in my seventh year dealing with Professor Lupin, the _werewolf_…" Weasley angled slightly away from the man and launched into an anecdote about an incident in his NEWT-level DADA class were he'd apparently kept the entire class on subject himself despite the professor's lack of knowledge on what they needed to pass NEWTs.

Daphne listened to it all with a smile on her face, agreeing every time he criticized Lupin for something although she'd always secretly thought that he'd been the best DADA professor they'd had despite the fact that he was himself classified as a dark creature. Her smile was real as Weasley seemed almost determined to not introduce her to the men at his side and even went as far as cutting them off whenever they tried.

It was amusing to see the wizards' innate need to show politeness before a lady warring with their affronted pride. Osgar's beard allowed him to hide his frown though his lowered brows gave him away. The elder Pucey's right hand twitched every time the redhead started a sentence as if he wanted to go for his wand.

Throughout Weasley's monologue, because obviously her talking was not necessary for the conversation (no wonder Penelope Clearwater had broken up with his self-centered behind), other purebloods and high-class half-bloods acknowledged her, Pritchard and Pucey as they passed. Though not directed at Weasley, he still took them as such and his tone became so pompous that it took all in her not to destroy his illusions about him being seen in society as anything but the son of blood traitors. That thought, vindictive as it was, gave her strength. Besides she had to look on the bright side, this could be used as an unexpected networking experience.

She forced a laugh at what he thought passed for a joke, some triviality about the proper thickness of cauldrons. There really was no hope for the man if the Dark Lord was rising and this was what he was worried about.

"And can you believe that he was also using thick cauldrons for his medicinal potions too? A half a centimeter above regulation!"

Daphne's eyebrow twitched.

"I'm happy to know that the ministry is dealing with the important issues in this time of trial." Pucey deserved an Order of Merlin for making his remark with a straight face. "However, if I could trouble you to introduce your companion?"

Weasley blinked at him and Pritchard as if he'd forgotten they were there, then straightened. "Excuse me, Mr. Pucey. This is an old classmate of mine, Daphne Greengrass." He patted her on the shoulder.

She'd seen better introductions done by children, but she still held out her hand to Adair. From the expression Adair masked before he grasped her hand, he had too.

"Ms. Greengrass, it's a pleasure. I'm Adair Pucey." He kissed her hand. "I've done business with your father and my son was in your House at school."

"Yes, Adrian." She hadn't been close with the older Slytherin though he'd come to her for information a few times. "Is he well?"

"Well enough." Mr. Pucey released her hand, a strange expression on his face. "Well enough."

She knew that Adrian had become a Death Eater last year. His name was also included on the list of pureblood sacrifices. She'd have to ask Draco if he knew what Adrian was doing for the Death Eaters that would put that look on his father's face.

"Lord Osgar Pritchard." The older wizard inserted himself into the conversation seamlessly and reached for her hand. She gave it to him. His sharp eyes never left hers as he brushed his lips against her skin and retained her hand in a loose grip even after lowering it. "Your father never mentioned what a beauty you are."

Daphne blushed; she'd been doing it on command since her third year. "Thank you, sir."

"I speak nothing less than the truth." Lord Pritchard was a charmer, she could see. "Your father was right to keep you out of sight before now."

"Oh?" Daphne wasn't sure if he was threatening her or not. Either way, she knew that she would watch her back around him.

"You're still very young, you know." Weasley interjected pompously.

Lord Pritchard's eyes narrowed at him and she had a feeling he was a few seconds from challenging the other wizard to a duel. "I was speaking, of course, of the battle over her hand that might have started prematurely."

That was not the threat she was expecting, but it was no less dangerous. She, as a pureblood witch, had the constant threat of betrothal over her head. Her father was lenient enough that she would have some say in the matter, but being forced to marry before her time was punishment enough. Sadly though, she could see why that might be on some of the older wizards' minds with the idiotic decisions the Ministry was making against purebloods.

"Her hand?" Weasley gawked at the older wizard. "But… oh." He gave Daphne an onceover that would have been more in place at a horse market.

"One would think that a man of your station would be familiar with the concept." Mr. Pucey's expression was strained. "Or one might wonder what you were doing helping on matters of policy that deal with such things."

"One might," Lord Pritchard agreed.

Weasley had the grace to flush. "I just didn't want to insult Ms. Greengrass by being indelicate."

If Daphne didn't have years of acting under her belt, she would have gaped. As it was, her eyes widened and she took a step away from the redhead, away from the blasting range it could become.

Accusing two politically savvy and popular lords of rudeness towards a witch was not something you did, especially when it wasn't true. There was rude and then there was political and social suicide. Weasley had just garroted himself and then shot the killing curse at his own foot.

The lord of the most Noble and Ancient line of Pritchard looked like he was about to shoot the killing curse at Weasley himself. His back was so straight now that his stoop was hardly in evidence and his grip on his cane had turned his knuckles white.

Mr. Pucey's reaction was more subtle. He was frowning openly now. "Excuse me?"

Weasley seemed to be trying to sink into himself. His hands were in front of him as he wrung them together and after a few seconds he foolishly looked at her for help.

"Hem-hem." A throat clear to the side of her had Daphne finally coming face to face with the woman of the hour. Who had most likely just saved Weasley's life, if not what little reputation he had.

"Why hello Professor Umbridge."

Dolores Umbridge was as revolting as ever with tight baby pink robes and a kitten pin which paced back and forth on her chest, giving the impression that it was trying to escape. Her face combined with her trademark throat clearing still brought the image of a toad to mind. "Why, Ms. Greengrass. How nice to see you here." Her voice sounded like it should be coming from a little girl's throat.

"The pleasure is mine Professor, or should I say Secretary? Congratulations." Daphne made sure her voice was smooth with just the right amount of flattery in it. It was reassuring to her plans that Umbridge recognized and remembered her. Though Daphne hadn't been part of the Inquisitorial Squad as it was too confrontational for her tastes, she'd made sure to endear herself to the woman because of her influence with the then Minister of Magic. Hours of suffering through over sugared tea and banal chat about kittens and 'how the wizarding world should be run' had clearly paid off.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the two other wizards had resumed their unaffected façade for the most part. Lord Pritchard's eye was twitching though, most likely because of the Undersecretary's rudeness.

The toad woman preened, a truly horrible sight. "My talents are finally being recognized. Scrimgeour himself promoted me and I've been key in writing these statutes which have been improving the wizarding world."

"I can tell. They resemble the excellent ones that you passed as school inquisitor. It's no surprise that the school went downhill after they were all overturned." Deceit was no stranger to Daphne although these lies made her want to wince. The dowry and heir process laws had been met with outrage at her house.

Umbridge nodded, grinning wider. "I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I told Professor Dumbledore that nothing good would come if he didn't heed my advice. Some of the students in your class didn't have a Ministry approved standard of behavior."

By 'some students' Daphne knew she meant Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. She'd complained about them often enough. Plus, no one knew exactly what had happened end of fifth year to necessitate Umbridge being rescued from the Forbidden forest, Pansy and Millicent hadn't been able to provide any information beyond it being Granger's fault. The woman had come out of St. Mungo's raving about Granger and Potter consorting with centaurs and giants to bring down the ministry and various other outlandish accusations that made any person with a lick of sense in their head question her sanity.

Daphne was tempted to ask if Umbridge knew that it was _her_ golden boy Draco who had arranged the entire Death Eaters in the castle scheme or that he was wanted for attempted murder by people in the know.

"Some houses have been historically better than others." She quipped.

"Yes, I found that to be true." This time when Umbridge nodded, Daphne found her eyes drifting to the small pink bow perched on the top of the woman's head. "So you will be returning to Hogwarts if it opens?"

"Father talked about transferring me to Beauxbatons, but I'm going to return to Hogwarts. It is my last year after all. I assumed that the Ministry would once again step in, therefore ensuring its safety." Daphne could almost see the cogs turning in Umbridge's head as she smiled, and the woman was broadcasting her thoughts so loud that Daphne heard her paramount thought in her head without the use of Legilimency: '_this young woman is the perfect example of the type of youth that the Ministry wants._' "I hope you don't mind me asking about your plans for the school? After last year, I'm sure the increase in quality will require some preparation on my part."

"I don't mind at all. There's no harm in taking action and being proactive." Umbridge trilled, her girly voice getting higher as she tittered. Daphne didn't need to be a Legilimens to see that Umbridge was making plans for the school on the spot; she looked like someone had just given her a lifetime supply of pink, kitten-sporting, plates. Daphne never wanted to see the look on her face again. "Why don't we go to my office and discuss this? Proactive behavior like yours deserves to be rewarded and since I unfortunately can't be at the school myself due to my new duties, I do need a special Ministry assigned student liaison that can help me out."

Daphne gave a small smile and met Umbridge's eyes, both moves designed to make her seem grateful. "Well, father has always emphasized involving myself in the government." She was sure that he hadn't meant as a spy plotting to overthrow it, but 'what he didn't know won't hurt him' was an adage she'd learned young as the child of a man whose only love after money was spending said money on her and her sister. "He'll be pleased to know that you're involving yourself so personally."

If Daphne thought Umbridge's previous smile was bad, this one had her hiding a cringe, but at the same time a feeling of triumph rose through her. While Daphne didn't match the force of Umbridge's appalling grin, she did give her a small genuine smile in return.

It might have taken an added dose of her family's name, but Dolores Umbridge, one of the main proprietors behind the statutes tearing the wizarding world apart, would soon be hers. All she had to do was take advantage of the groundwork she'd already began fifth year.

Both Lord Pritchard and Mr. Pucey were still watching so she made sure to give them proper goodbyes which stood out starkly against the way that Umbridge had just dismissed them without acknowledging them and started walking away. They would remember her, and they would remember her fondly.

Her smile grew.

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A/N: A thousand apologies for the extremely slow update! Hope you like it!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: And now its back to the Trio.

Disclaimer: I don't in any shape, form, or fashion own Harry Potter.

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While Hermione had thought that the days before the wedding were hectic, they had nothing on the chaos that was the Burrow on the actual day. While everything was set up superficially, underneath everyone was a mess. The florist delivered the wrong flowers, they had to provide the minister with an Auror guard to get him to come, Molly had underestimated the number of guests and was frantically arranging for more chairs and tables, and the bride had woken up with 'bad hair'.

To make things worse, a rumor that Death Eaters had slaughtered a wedding party the night before ensured that everyone was extra jumpy with their wands on hand. More than one person had accidentally hexed an inanimate object with 'constant vigilance' on their minds.

Hermione wouldn't have minded this if Ginny hadn't decided to act on her vindictiveness by insisting that since Hermione was 'practically family' she should be among the throng of woman helping the bride get ready for her big day. Hermione, who had planned on spending the day researching until she had to put on her dress robes and go to the ceremony, was not amused.

Their argument might have escalated into a duel if Mrs. Weasley hadn't appeared, harried over the lack of chairs, and ordered them both to go help Fleur. And thus, Hermione ended up being one among about fifteen woman of different ages and sizes, over half of them French, another voice whose sole purpose was to reassure the flustered bride that she really looked beautiful, that her dress still fit perfectly, and that there was nothing wrong with her hair (Hermione really did think that Fleur's hair was fine, you hadn't seen bad hair until you'd glimpsed Hermione's bed head).

Since all of the women, baring Ginny and the occasional Mrs. Weasley when she wasn't busy yelling orders or arguing with Fleur's mother, were either Fleur's friends or family, Hermione rationalized Ginny's decision to include her as being one made so she wouldn't feel so alone. Then, when Hermione was reduced to using her formidable brain power and skill to charm a hair dryer to work on a higher heat because the bride was too overcome with emotion to remember how, she caught Ginny smirking at her with a look that wouldn't have been out of place on Draco Malfoy's face. She made sure to decline Ginny's offer to help with her hair after that, instead letting one of Fleur's cousins do it.

Once that trial was over, she managed to slip into her room and re-check her packing. She'd been finished since last week, but as they'd be leaving after the wedding, it wouldn't hurt to quadruple check. Although, no one would be able to tell she was packed because her trunk full of her clothes, books, and supplies remained in the room. Not to mention Crookshanks would be staying behind as well. She hoped that the boys had done the same. There hadn't been enough time for her to pack all their things (only the muggle clothing she'd bought for their disguises) since after that meeting in the yard, Mrs. Weasley had been especially watchful anytime they were alone together and had repeatedly given them separate tasks to keep them apart. Either the woman's maternal intuition or her years of experience with the twins had alerted her to the fact that something was up, she just hadn't pinpointed what yet, and she was doing her best to find out and foil it.

As if thinking of the Weasley matriarch summoned her, Mrs. Weasley opened the door looking harried. "Hermione, good you're ready. Be a dear and fetch Ron and Harry would you?" Without waiting for an answer she turned and hurried off, muttering to herself about the grouping of tables and the nerve of people who didn't RSVP.

Hermione sighed before going to Ron's room. She knocked on the door once to announce her presence, and then went in. Harry and Ron didn't even look up from whatever they were poring over on Ron's bed.

"Hey Hermione," Ron greeted absently.

Harry's eyes remained glued to the paper, a map Hermione identified as she got closer, and he tapped a section of it. "Here's the town she said she lived near right?"

"Who?" Hermione asked although she was losing interest as she looked at the map. The map was a wizarding one of France, complete with a 3d mountain range and rivers that actually seemed to flow. It was raining on one side of the map while clouds covered the other side and waves crested in the oceans. Harry's finger was actually going through some of the clouds.

"One of Fleur's cousins mentioned a house that Riddle supposedly lived in. Just a legend really, but who knows?" Ron said. "We figured we'd check it out if we go to that area."

Hermione considered this, going over their travel plans in her mind. "It might be possible to stop by after our first destination. How strong is this lead?"

"It's about as strong as everything else we have: the house has reputedly been passed down from Dark wizard to Dark wizard because of its library, apparently even Grindelwald stayed there." Harry replied.

"Good enough." Even if Voldemort had never been there, it would be worth it just to investigate the library. The more information she had access to the better their chance of success would be. She mentally altered the travel plans to include this, then launched into what Ron called her 'bossy voice'. "Are you guys done packing? I've got the bare essentials for you two but it would be best if-"

"Don't worry. We've been finished since yesterday." Ron said smugly.

Harry snorted. "We?"

"Okay, Harry finished last night, I did thirty minutes ago."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Some things never changed. "At least you're done now. Though I must admit to being impressed that you're ready for the wedding."

"The twins offered to help us if we weren't dressed the next time we saw them." Harry explained.

"Offered? Threatened is more like it." Their ginger haired companion elaborated. "Of course, they were probably just teasing since Bill would have their heads if they did anything to ruin the wedding… I think."

"With those two, you never know." Harry shrugged and smoothed the front of his dress robes. "So, we're leaving right after the wedding?"

"The doppelganger spell will take place as soon as we leave the Burrow property." She reminded them. The plan was for the trio to apparate to a safe spot in a Muggle town in the middle of England, then apparate to their destination from there. "We'll just sneak off one at a time to apparate. Me, then Harry, then Ron."

Ron crossed his arms. "Why am I last?"

Hermione suppressed the urge to sigh. They'd been over this several time already and she was done with the dispute. She and Ron had to go first and last in order to make sure that Harry arrived safely, but if they kept on repeating it that way, Harry would balk and insist he be given a different position. "Because Ronald." Her voice brokered no arguments.

"Fine," he looked away. "So this is it then?"

Harry's eyes were on the map though Hermione doubted they registered anything. "Yep."

Normally, this was where Hermione piped up with whatever she was worrying about whether it be if she'd packed enough, if the route she'd chosen would be okay, if the boys had packed enough, but she kept her worries to herself, recognizing that it was she who needed to be the rock now. The old her might have prepared a speech or an uplifting catchphrase or acronym. Her improved self recognized it for the waste of time it was. "It'll be okay as long as we stay together."

The mood lightened considerably as they exchanged determined looks.

The truth was encouraging enough.

0 0 0

A few hours later, as she fought for her life in her frilly wedding robes, Hermione was reconsidering her belief that it would be easy for them to sneak off. In fact, in between throwing hexes and dodging them, she questioned how that notion even occurred to her. The wedding ceremony itself, luckily for Bill and Fleur, was over. It had been beautiful and had a war not been hanging over her head, Hermione was sure she would have catalogued each and every way it differed from a muggle ceremony, especially the magically binding vows that made divorce nigh impossible and closely resembled certain ownership spells which had since been deemed Dark Arts.

Instead, she had gone over every aspect of their departure in her head, ordering each and every possible escape route, what she might have to do to reach it, and what to do in case one of the boys got detained, in order to keep from letting her anxiety from showing on her face. Only a few of the options had touched upon what to do if they were attacked as she'd thought that Voldemort wouldn't dare strike a place where so many adult wizards and witches and Aurors were. It was too obvious a target, she'd thought, where Voldemort's followers would be easily held off since everyone was in a constant state of vigilance, wedding or not.

She was wrong; she had forgotten how quickly the majority of the wizarding population started panicking. Wands at the ready or not, a great deal of wizards had fallen because they'd stared dumbstruck or started running when the Death Eaters had surrounded them at the end of Charlie's best man speech. Fleur had saved the lives of all at the head table when she pulled her wand out from under her dress and cast a shield charm while everyone else was still gaping. As if that was a call to arms, the rest of the head table and those who weren't running had joined the battle.

The part-veela newlywed was in fine form, taking out as many Death Eaters as the Aurors, beautiful and powerful with the righteous fury of a woman whose perfect wedding has been ruined. Her new husband fought by her side and they made a perfectly vicious team. The rest of the Weasley brood had spread out among the guests, the twins fighting side by side; Charlie, Ginny, and their parents; and Ron fighting back to back with Harry.

The two boys had their hands full as most of the Death Eaters gravitated towards the Boy-who-lived. Their wands were blurs as they cast and dodged and shielded, all the training they'd done in the beginning of the summer shining through. She'd been separated from them earlier on when she'd dodged a curse and then avoided the panicking people. Hermione was trying to cut through the crowd to get to them, but it was as if a new foe appeared every time she'd gotten rid of one and she had to dodge friendly fire as much as the Death Eater's spells.

"Impedimenta!" A voice yelled out behind her and she threw herself to the ground, rolling as she hit to turn and aim at the masked man already waving his wand for another spell, this one definitely more deadly if she recognized that wrist flick.

"Stupefy!" She cast before she finished rolling and started to stand. Silently, she cast expelliarmus and incendio. By the time she was on her feet, the Death Eater was stunned, without his wand, and on fire, and still only a quick dart to her left (farther away from Ron and Harry of course) kept her from being hit by an angry red spell sent her way by another of Voldemort's tools. She'd already cast a stunning spell and shield charm on reflex, before she managed to actually sight her opponent.

This man was taller than the last and slightly bulkier. It was hard to differentiate the Death Eaters because of their cloaks and masks, which meant that everything they did was truly seen as an action by an extension of Voldemort. As she accio'd a nearby table into the Death Eater's head, she wondered if any of the Death Eaters ever got disturbed by how much of their identity they lost by following the soulless madman, if they ever recognized the irony since they blamed that loss on everybody else. The table connected with a crack and the man's neck jerked to an unnatural angle. Her mind started to make the association and alert her gag reflex, but two hexes came her way from opposite directions and different reflexes came into play, those dealing with survival.

Training with Harry and Ron had prepared her to the point that she was able to avoid both attacks with time to spare. Neither of the boys had taken it easy on her and double teaming was their favorite tactic. This wasn't the same since she didn't know the habits and battle tactics of these two like she knew her boys and they were shooting to kill, but the concept was the same. Divide and conquer.

She threw impedimenta at the one on her left and blocked the one on her right before banishing three chairs and a burning table at him. A quick glance at the one on the left showed a stream of yellow shooting towards her. She dropped and it incinerated a tree into nothing but ashes. Not wasting time to marvel at her fortune, she threw a severing charm at him which he blocked then she summoned a flock of hawks, an improvement on her canaries, which immediately dove for his eyes. His screams drowned out his comrades spells and though Hermione dived to avoid it, the spell skimmed her and blood trickled down her back. She ignored the pain and focused on the man who'd hexed her.

"Not so quick now, are you mudblood?" His voice was raspy, but she noticed that his cloak was still smoldering and his mask was dented in. "I recognize you, Potter's mudblood bi-"

"Expelliarmus!" Had he really thought that she was just going to sit there and listen while he gloated? "Stupefy!" The force of her spell sent him into an approaching death eater. "Incarcerous!" Chains appeared and secured the two together and to a tree.

The area around her was clear of death eaters and she turned her attention back to her original object: Harry and Ron. They were still surrounded by the majority of the enemy, but the twins and, she blinked in surprise, Viktor Krum had joined them, increasing their odds. Hermione ran towards them, calculating the number of Death eaters and what she needed to do to neutralize as many as possible.

There were eleven death eaters in the group around Harry, and they were both attacking the middle of the circle and repelling those trying to get into it. It was a testament to the skills of the twins and Viktor that they'd managed the feat. She stopped to stupefy an approaching death eater and in watching his body fall to the ground, she observed the others around him. Her fist tightened at the sight even as she pivoted to continue towards the circle of death eaters.

Ginny and her mother were trying to get inside on the side she approached. Ginny's dress robe was in tatters, her face swollen as if she'd been punched, and blood was dripping from an open wound on her arm. Her mother wasn't obviously hurt, but she was shaking as she cast and blocked. When Hermione got a few feet closer, she could hear Mrs. Weasley ordering her daughter to get to safety in between fighting. Ginny was stalwartly ignoring her, though Hermione could tell that the girl would break with a few more curses.

Once more taking in her surroundings, she counted four other people trying to get into the circle including Tonks, which made it seven against eleven. Besides bodies, tables and chairs were lying everywhere and broken china littered the ground. Screams and spells lit the evening sky as Hermione joined Ginny against her opponent and began working on a way to get inside.

As she was contemplating whether or not she could summon enough hawks to distract all the Death Eaters, her red-haired friend was hit with Jelly-legs and stumbled into her. The brainy witch cast the countercharm and (finally!) stupefied one of their opponents. He dropped and their other adversary avoided his falling body by stepping into Hermione's body bind curse. That death eater fell backward like a beam of wood into a death eater who had been dueling with Viktor. The former Triwizard contestant took advantage of this and stunned him before moving on to the next enemy.

" Hermione, watch out!" Ginny's cry came just in time for Hermione to duck and evade a nasty skin splitting curse.

Hermione swore and set the hawks on the death eater who'd thrown the spell then flicked off an impedimenta at another death eater who'd tried to sneak up on them, sending him flying into a tree. The death eater dealing with her hawks took off his mask to get them away from his eyes, but they created enough damage that when he waved his hand and performed an unfamiliar motion with his wand and the birds exploded, his face was a mask of blood. His blue eyes were filled with hatred as he pointed his wand at her. "Ava-"

"Stupefy!" Her spell caught him in the chest.

At the same time, several people swore, Harry and Ron included. She looked up and saw that a group of six death eaters had just apparated onto the field. Her mouth turned down. The ministry should have been there by now. That no more aurors had arrived suggested trouble at the ministry itself which, though unfortunate, luckily was one of the scenario's she'd considered.

It was time to put contingency plan D into action. The one upside to this was that it would be very easy to slip out unnoticed in the general melee.

"Harry! Ron! Brace yourselves!" It was the signal they'd agreed upon to use before she tried something new. During her call, she began spinning her wand in a wide circle, starting one of the spells she'd developed over sixth year and the summer (she had needed to do something constructive while Ron explored the mysteries of Lavender's throat.) It was based off an old elemental spell that had fallen out of favor with the ministry. The spinning got faster and closer as she went on and the wind picked up around them.

"Hermione?" Ginny questioned as her hair and robes started to whip in the air. "What are you doing?"

The leaves had risen from the ground and were blowing in a circle around Hermione. Ginny wasn't the only one to notice something amiss; Mrs. Weasley gave her quick inquisitive glance when she identified her as the source of the air currents. A death eater also noticed this and threw a hex at Hermione but Mrs. Weasley quickly blocked it. Hermione spun her wand for a few more seconds, relishing the feel of the wind around her, pointed it at the Death eater circle then shouted, " Civionis!"

It was like she'd set a hurricane down in their midst. Everything, the tables, chairs, glasses, plates, silverware, fallen wands, and two trees flew into the gale force winds. Mrs. Weasley braced herself then grabbed Ginny for support. The death eaters themselves could barely remain on the ground, forcing them to take their focus off defending and attacking, and onto surviving. This made them simple pickings for the rest of them and once they were all stupefied, Hermione lifted the spell. The center of the circle was untouched with those in it as unharmed as they'd been before her spell. She let out a sigh of relief that the boys had interpreted her call correctly and had protected themselves.

" Hermione, what was that?!" Ginny was staring at her in a mix of horror and awe.

She didn't bother to answer, as she was trying to catch her breath and gather her strength once more; instead she directed her attention towards the new group of death eaters who were eying her apprehensively. The boys were okay, so she could get on with the next step of the plan. Strategic retreat.

" Stupefy!" Her spell hit one of the death eaters in the front. Then it was the dance of survival: dodge, cast, shield, hex, shield, dodge, cast. Stupefies, expelliarmuses, petrificus totalus, incendiara, and aquifialas all left her wand at some point. She registered the presence of other Order members next to her, helping her, but there was no time to talk. This group of death eaters was definitely more advanced than the others and she had to work for every hit and block.

After what seemed like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than five minutes, five death eaters had been removed from the battle and the Order finally had the advantage of numbers. She had just blasted Antonin Dolohov's mask off when the curse of the Death Eater beside him hit Ginny and sent her shooting towards a fallen tree with several thick branches sticking out. It only took a moment for her to realize that if Ginny made contact with the tree, she would be skewered.

Hermione sent a cushioning charm to the ground next to the tree and directed Ginny there. Dolohov's deep chuckle brought her attention back to him in time to see the dark red hex that was impossible for her to avoid. It seemed that that plan would have to be altered slightly. She locked eyes with Harry as she thought the only spell that could possibly save her a second before the hex hit her.

Then her body exploded and spattered over the battlefield.

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A/N: My treat after being gone for so long is two chapters at once. Enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm back. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't in any shape, form, or fashion own Harry Potter.

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Millicent realized that she probably should have expected something like this. Par their plan while Daphne and Blaise worked the political arena, she and Pansy were to fill a more Death Eater related role.

A.k.a. spy.

Because spying on a wizard as powerful and crazy as Voldemort would have been difficult had he not also had the ability to read minds, the fact that he could meant that she would have to be on her toes even more. It also meant that a majority of her survival would depend on her Occlumency ability. One which was largely untested considering that she had generally worked on it by herself and had never had anyone actively try her shields. Therefore, she had agreed to let Draco train her further and improve her skills.

It was a major action of trust for her since she didn't normally talk to anyone or let anyone get too close; to then go and agree to allow someone to attack her mind had almost made her back out of everything. This was even before taking into account that this someone had admitted to being trained by Bellatrix Lestrange, a woman who was nearly as insane as Millicent's brother.

Objectively, this fact only raised her level of respect for him; anyone who managed to have Bellatrix in his head and not go mad had to have a strong will and intelligence.

That was if he wasn't better at acting than she credited him with, because then he could just be just as insane as Bellatrix and leading them all on, but Millicent wasn't going to dwell on that, especially not since he had just slipped out from behind one of the trees in her backyard without any of the numerous wards alerting her to his presence.

Draco's bright hair shone in the sun like a beacon, making his pale skin look almost translucent. His robe was not black like she would have expected, but a strange grayish brown color. He nodded at her, then slid back behind the tree, and though she should have been able to see him, she couldn't.

Millicent sighed, wondering once again what he been through since the end of the school year to give him skills like this, and then stepped off of her back porch and followed him. It wasn't safe to do anything in her house because like most old pureblood manors, the walls did have eyes and ears, and the last thing she needed was her mother finding out that she'd gotten involved with the fugitive Draco Malfoy. Especially not since she and her father had finally reappeared and refused to talk about or acknowledge the fact that they were gone. Her mother was also talking to her more and giving long sorrowful sighs whenever she saw Millicent. Even if Millicent hadn't known what was going on, she would have been suspicious.

But now wasn't the time to think about that.

Once she stepped behind the tree Draco'd been at and into the forest that edged her backyard, she caught sight of him again, leaning against a wide old tree.

He raised an eyebrow. "You said you knew a safe place?"

Millicent smirked and began walking to the clearing the Occlumency would take place at.

So, he hadn't been able to discover it on his own? She had told him that there was a place in the forest that only she knew about which would be safe for them to practice and he'd told her, in a flashback of his pre-Voldemort cockiness, that he'd be able to find it and lead her to it. It was refreshing to know that, though Malfoy now looked and moved like he'd been born in the forest, he hadn't been able to find this place or breach her wards.

The pathway to the clearing was blocked with an illusion spell that made it look like another tight grove of old trees. The only people who could see through it were those of the Bulstrode bloodline, and only then if you were past a certain power level and passed an old ability based test only found in an ancient tome which she'd accidentally discovered buried in the house elf grave yard.

She waited until Malfoy had caught up to her.

"This is it?" He asked, examining what he thought were large oaks.

She grunted in agreement, then grabbed his hand and yanked him alongside her into the passageway. Lightening crackled in the dramatic way it always seemed to do whenever an old rite was invoked, and then sizzled over both of them. The sensation was mildly unpleasant, like the sharp sting of a splinter, harsh for a second, then quickly fading away.

Malfoy tried to pull his hand out of hers, but she held fast and couldn't help the small grin that tilted up her lips at his surprise at her strength. After the lightening faded, she dropped his hand and started down the path. She'd only taken a step when he grabbed her shoulder and tried to pull her back. This time she let him move her, though she did it slow enough so that he knew that she was letting him and that it was through no strength of his own.

"What?" She had expected some form of anger to be on his face and was both disappointed and disturbed by the blankness she saw there.

"Why didn't you warn me?" The question was perfectly calm and didn't belong with the way he had attempted to pull her back.

"Because it was nothing." She stepped out of his grasp. "Because I'd rather not talk about anything secret until it is safe to do so."

He held her gaze for a moment before nodding. "Then let's go there."

They made their way down the rest of the path to a large circular clearing. Grass grew along the edges and there was a perfect dirt circle in the middle where nothing grew. Years ago, it had been used a ceremonial place for rites that were no longer observed by the Bulstrode family or the wizarding world at large. Now, it was a perfect place for her to practice spells or get privacy.

She was silent as Draco explored what was to be their workplace. When he sat on one of the seven large flat-topped rocks around the circle and looked at her, she took it as her cue to explain. "This used to be the main ceremonial circle for my family which they stopped using, maybe a century ago. But it still has built in protection and secrecy wards and any magic done in here can't be detected."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been using this place since I discovered it at twelve and neither the ministry nor my parents noticed." She sat on the rock next to his. "It will be perfect for our purposes."

His lips quirked slightly, then his face went blank again. If they had been actual friends, Millicent would have asked him what was so obviously bothering him. They weren't, so she just sat with him in silence, knowing that since he'd allowed her to see him like this, he would eventually explain.

He didn't disappoint. "Have you heard the news?"

"The latest Prophet was another Ministry decree, something about curfews, which is a repeat I think."

"It is," he tilted his head and the light hit his hair in a way that made him seem haloed.

A more poetic Millicent might have made some comparison to an angel or ethereal being, the one who existed just snorted. "Are you done posing? I'm not Parkinson."

"I know." He sighed and emotion filled his face for the first time: exasperation. "Do you own a brush?"

"Several." She pulled a lock of her hair up from the tangled mess that fell to her waist and praised herself for not wincing. "It takes time and skill to achieve such a masterpiece."

He did wince. "At least yours is intentional."

She blinked, trying to follow his logic. It would sound like an offhand comment to most, but they were Slytherins. Unintentional tangled messy hair in need of a brush? What did that have to do with Occlumency, which is where she had thought this conversation was leading? No one that she knew unintentionally tried to get their hair as messy and bushy as… Hermione Granger. An image flitted through her head, a memory of Malfoy taunting Granger about the bushy tangle she called hair.

The news had to be about Granger then. "Granger was too intellectual to deal with such normal social niceties like hair care, or conditioner."

"Was? So you have heard."

Millicent had enough of the doubletalk. She just glared and had the satisfaction of seeing Malfoy flinch. Years of practicing in front of a mirror had paid off.

"Granger is dead." The words were delivered in a monotone, without any inflection whatsoever.

Millicent's world tilted on its axis for a second.

That had been the last thing she'd expected. Of all the so-called 'Golden Trio,' she had thought that Granger would be the least likely to die during the war. It was well known that she was Potter's brain and Millicent had assumed that the girl would be holed up somewhere safe and Unplottable where she could do all the thinking for Potter and Weasley.

It was odd that she had to work to clear her face. Millicent had never liked Granger; she wouldn't say she had hated her, but she had a feeling that even if they had been put in the same House, they wouldn't have been friends. Still, friend or not, it put this war even more into perspective.

Although Dumbledore and Diggory's deaths had been shocking and eye-opening to Millicent, the death of this girl who she'd interacted with, had classes, and even had a fist fight with was on another level. Millicent had known intellectually that some of her classmates might die, had even thought good riddance about some of them, but actually experiencing it made her stomach churn. It put her own mortality into question. If the smartest girl in their class was the first casualty, what did that say for the rest of them? This was a serious blow to those opposing Voldemort.

She swallowed to make sure her voice wasn't shaky. "When?"

She didn't need to ask why the news wasn't in the Prophet. The ministry's propaganda machine wouldn't dare print something that might incite the general populace to get off their arse and protest or think about how poorly the Ministry was handling Voldemort. The news of the death of Gryffindor's golden girl, Harry Potter's supposed girlfriend (as most of the wizarding world still knew her), and the symbol of everything wrong with Voldemort's pureblood first policy would only provoke chaos. With the right angle, it could make Granger a martyr. Millicent could see exactly why it hadn't made the news.

"Two days ago at the Weasley wedding reception. Apparently she took out over twenty death eaters before she was blasted apart by one of Dolohov's specialized curses." He shrugged as if it were nothing, but looked lost for a moment.

"How did you find out?" By which she meant, Snape or Pansy?

"Pansy told me. Dolohov has been griping about it, and her father is currently hosting Tom's court."

"Griping? Why? Was she killed too quickly for his liking?" Millicent didn't know very much about the senior Death Eaters since her parents hadn't been official death eaters and no information was readily available about them. What she had heard though, was that Antonin Dolohov was a sadistic sociopath who enjoyed causing pain to a level beyond the Lestranges. Granger had been lucky that her death was quick if he'd been after her.

"Yes. And because he was punished by the D- Tom since his orders were to bring her in alive." Malfoy had been staring at the ground, but now he met her eyes steadily. "How does that make you feel?"

What? Millicent opened her mouth to lie because there was no way that she could credibly answer that question and maintain the façade she showed to the world, when she felt a sharp pain in her head. Then memories surfaced without her control:

-_her five years old, wondering what Mother meant when she called her ugly._

_-first year, on the Hogwarts train, seeing a bushy haired girl with buckteeth who she thought might be a potential friend until the girl opened her mouth, asked about school subjects, and then promised to help an outcast find his pet_

_-second year, losing control of herself after an older version of the bushy haired girl hits her like a muggle, then putting the girl into a headlock to show that she is superior no matter what method she chooses_

_-third year, watching the bushy-haired girl essentially doing Longbottom's potion in class and feeling vindicated by Snape's expected haranguing of her_

_-fourth year, in the library, overhearing Granger ask for old yearbooks that Tom Riddle might be in_

_-summer of fourth year, walking up into St. Mungos to see-_

Millicent imagined a thick castle fortress around her memories and kicked Malfoy out of her head.

He hadn't said the spell out loud.

She scowled at him, angry at the way he'd surprised her as well as impressed. It had been a good way to accurately judge her shields and gather information on her. Luckily none of the memories were incriminating; it could have been worse. She repeated that in her mind in the face of his smirk and bit back the insults on the tip of her tongue.

She'd agreed to this. They'd already done an unbreakable vow to keep this time secret not just to stop blackmail material but also to keep from accidentally revealing their involvement with one another.

His expression didn't change and she knew that he was waiting to see how she responded to his methods. She still wanted to punch him in his pointy face, but this was necessary so she swallowed her pride.

"How long did it take?" She asked. One of the problems with being legilimenced that way was that she had no concept of time.

"A few seconds. You're not as bad as I expected you to be." He still looked like he should be the main subject in an angelic painting.

A few seconds? Sweat trickled down her back and forehead and she knew her cheeks had reddened from the exertion. It was going to take a lot more concentrated training for her to be able to go into the Death eaters and face Tom Riddle if she was this tired out from a few seconds with a junior death eater. Malfoy had mentioned this, but she hadn't believed him, thinking that her training would just need a few tweaks.

Her plans would unfortunately have to be adjusted then. She didn't want Malfoy messing around in her head any more than he had to. "So… I agree with the original time table you suggested then."

He twirled his wand in his hand, drawing it to her attention, and her stomach dropped. Once again, she reconsidered if this was a good idea.

Millicent wasn't worried about the wand because he'd needed it to do legilimency; she was worried about it because she hadn't noticed when he'd taken it out. Again, the fact that she didn't truly know Malfoy's actual mental state ran occurred to her.

Malfoy's smirk widened, his intense eyes churning with laughter that his face did not reflect.

"Agreed, if you share with me your opinion on our lost classmate." Surprisingly, his words weren't mocking, indicating to her at least, that maybe Malfoy's motives were influenced by something besides self-preservation. He still sounded like the typical pureblood, but that had been respect tinting his words.

What did she think of the late Hermione Granger?

She had respected her, grudgingly, because of her power and intelligence. She had not liked her; not because of their house divide, but because of Granger's annoying tendency to condescend to others and presume that just because she was the only one saying something, she was the only one who knew it. She had also envied her; because of her birth, Granger could show off in class, ace all her tests, and be herself without worrying about what her parents or polite society would think. Granger was free in all the ways that Millicent was not and wanted to be. Yet the other girl had not deserved to die in this war and especially not before it was even officially declared and accepted as a war.

She met Malfoy's eyes. "I found Granger tolerable and her death regrettable. Despite her bloodline, she could have been a useful ally." She kept her tone matter of fact. "I also find it unfortunate since Potter will now be useless until he finds someone else to leech off of."

Malfoy nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

Millicent froze as she felt his presence in her mind and realized that they were. Her first thoughts of the impossibility of it were quickly chased by her trying to shut him out. It was more horrifying than his flipping through her memories. Dimly, she was aware of her body moving back, her wand up, while mentally instead of a wall, she used a desert to surround her mind, a harsh, unforgiving wasteland that would drain anything trying to get through it.

It was struggle to set up the desert. The sand kept on turning into lush flowery fields or rivers that ran straight to the parts of her she most wanted to protect.

Or did she want to protect other parts?

Or give up? No she couldn't give up. But she could; it would be easy.

For whom?

Thoughts flowed through her mind and she couldn't tell who they originated from.

And his presence bore down the more she concentrated, burning her so much that she wondered how she missed him coming in.

But she didn't give up; she refused to, why? Because? Why did she agree to this could she have afforded to not agree to this who did he she think he she was better than this so much-

"GET OUT!" Millicent screamed and the desert was endless and her mind was blessedly quiet.

She didn't know how long it took her to get her bearings, to look outside her aching mind. She opened her eyes (or she rerouted her vision through them again, she couldn't tell). The facts about her position poured in: she was sitting on the ground, a few feet away from where she had been standing, her shaking wand hand extended in Malfoy's direction, a few inches to the side of him.

Her arm hurt so she must have been pointing it at him for a while. Millicent stared at her arm and then back at Malfoy. She tried to adjust her angle so she was pointing at the threat because what had she been thinking, but her hand, no, her entire body was shaking so badly that she dropped her wand onto the ground. And she couldn't pick it up.

"Wh-wha-what?" She stuttered, still struggling to process what had happened. What was the boy staring at her through empty eyes? What had he done to her?

"That was what you will be facing," Malfoy said, and then sighed. "We're going to have to work harder to achieve our goal without Granger. But it can and will be done. And it will be painful." A calculating look flitted through his eyes before they went blank again.

There was wetness on her face and ears too thick to be tears. Millicent slowly brought a hand to her upper lip and wasn't surprised to see blood. Bleeding from her eyes, nose, and ears… She swallowed. "Th-that? I-I've never-"

"Tom has more skills than what you've heard."

Millicent grabbed her head with both hands, afraid that he was in her mind again, but no… she was alone she thought.

"Tom is more than what you've heard." Malfoy said, his tone just a degree under admiring. "Now get up. This is not a mission for the weak and I picked you for that reason."

Outrage gave Millicent strength. Outrage and caution. She'd massively underestimated the blond gazing down on her like she was a disobedient dog. Underestimated him and what this would take.

It hurt to get to her feet. It hurt even more to remain there. Malfoy might have been in her head but it felt like he'd beaten her like a bludger. She solved the issue of finding her wand by summoning it to her hand. The feel of the familiar wood brought her some comfort, gave her back a bit of security, but she still stared at Malfoy like he was a ravening beast.

"If I had been my aunt, you'd be alive and wishing you were dead." Malfoy informed her. "That was just a playful strike to her." He took a step closer. "If I had been Tom, you'd also be alive and wishing you were dead. But that would be just a cursory glance. Give him any reason to suspect you, this is just the beginning."

"But you aren't," Millicent refused to be intimidated. She was here to learn, not to be used by Malfoy; a partnership not a dictatorship. "And that is not something that traditional Occlumency even hints about blocking. That is not legilimency. I didn't put those limits in the vow we took for nothing. Give me warning next time."

"Are you listening to me?" Malfoy sneered. "Traditional died when Tom came back from the dead. And I know the limits very well. I'm not about to risk my magic for you. I did nothing that overstepped anything we agreed on."

Millicent clenched her fist. He was right, technically. She'd made sure to stipulate that she had to leave all the lessons with her body, mind, and magic intact and healthy. She left the wiggle room in the middle because she knew that he had to cause her some harm to teach her. "Barely," she stressed. "And traditional or not, I would have heard if Tommy could," she forced herself to remember what had happened to her; her mind still felt raw. "If he could control people's thoughts like that. It was like you Imperio'd my mind! I've never heard of that."

"I think we both know that you are not the authority on anything here." Draco said. "And that wasn't an Imperio, just your poor defenses."

Her poor defenses? Millicent's wand hand went up to show him what she thought about that, but then her intellect brought it down. Her anger burned and she felt herself slipping into the mindset that had led her to ridding herself of her fiancé. He wanted her to toughen up?

"My defenses might be poor now, but that is what you are here to fix." She took a step towards him, her shaking all but gone.

He was alone with her in a place drenched with her family magic and blood. Seven different spells, one for each stone, poised on the tip of her tongue to ensure that he never left. And three of those spell would render him unable to hurt her in any way, shape, or form while compelling him to do whatever she asked. He could be her little magic encyclopedia. Everything that he was doing now, without the hassle of worrying about when he'd stab her in the back… and she could see the knife he was waiting to do it with. She just hadn't done what he needed out of her yet.

Malfoy tensed slightly, and she knew that some of her struggle must be reflecting in her eyes.

He would put up a fight and the magic would have consequences, but she could live with those.

"Quick question," the sunlight still gave the blond a misleading halo. "If anything happens to me, how are you planning on getting Snape's help or information?"

She was sure that she could find a way. It would be hard, but she could. Parkinson might be upset, but Daphne and Blaise would still work with her, would probably prefer working without him. Malfoy wasn't as indispensable as he'd like to believe. She could feel the magic in the circle reacting to her will; that her blood had hit the ground earlier only added to its potency.

Malfoy stared at her, eyes calculating, very blatantly not going for his wand.

She stared back, holding her wand just as blatantly.

A beat passed.

"It's a branch of Malfoy magic. A very specific technique that my father taught me and one of the few things that he did not give over to Tom. But I used it on you because we don't have a lot of time and if you can resist it, you can resist anything else." The words were a concession from Malfoy.

Millicent considered this. Family magic, it made sense. "So I won't encounter it with the death eaters."

"Unless you have a problem with father," Draco shrugged. "But as he doesn't waste his time with low-ranked minions, you should be fine."

She was tempted to ask how high was his father ranked now after both of their failures, but didn't. The ramifications of this type of mental magic had her attention. It made a lot of sense when she factored in Lucius Malfoy's previously extremely profitable politics and how things always seemed to work out for the man even when they shouldn't. He could literally make people think what he wanted. Her father had complained about it more than once, how he couldn't understand why the elder Malfoy always changed his mind.

She admired that and she liked the thought of being able to resist it even better. "Can you teach it to me?"

His jaw ticked. "If you don't want to be able to use your own family magic."

That wasn't an answer but probably all she was going to get. The waiting magic she held slowly sunk back down into dormancy and the moment was over.

Malfoy stopped tapping his wand.

"Fine then. We'll stick to occlumency for now." She said. He was more useful to her as he was than bound to one spot right now, so she'd let him be.

"Are you sure?" His grey eyes looked colorless. "You won't get this chance again."

"Chance to-" Millicent started and felt inward. His presence was there. Remembered pain made her react and her fist connected with his nose.

He fell on his ass and stared at her in shock, probably the first true emotion he'd felt since he'd followed her in here.

She was alone in her mind now and her hand hurt. "Stay out of my head unless we're training."

He kicked at her ankle and she stumbled back. His eyes were so dark they looked black and his face twisted into a feral mask. "Every time we're in here we're training. Whenever I see you out of the Death Eaters, we are training! This is our lives! Legilimens!"

In a feat that she hadn't expected, he vaulted to his feet without using his hands, his wand out. Millicent cast a shield charm but she was too slow. His spell hit her and she was

_-ten and mother was pulling the comb through her hair so hard that her scalp hurt. "I still can't believe something so homely came from- _

_-five and blood covered-_

_-eleven and the potion in her cauldron hasn't become clear but once it does her problems will-_

_-fourteen and blood cov-_

_-sixteen and the white walls made-_

"Expelliarmus!" Millicent was still standing but blood was streaming from her nose, over her mouth and down her neck.

Malfoy's nose was bloody too, so bloody that when he grinned, crimson stained his white teeth. He was still holding his wand. "Marginally better. Aunt Bella might have noticed some resistance before she slowly ripped out your mind. Legilimens."

Millicent braced herself.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Let me know what you think!


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